After the Deathly Hallows
by Ebony-Ink-Stain
Summary: Is being alive in another world better than being dead? Perhaps Harry's world isn't the only place that needs magic. I'm not paranoid. It really is T.
1. In Which Strangers Appear at the Door

"No," I said, and slammed the door in her face. Rowena (little witch that she is), threw the door back open. I don't know HOW she did it, but she did it nonetheless.

"What do you mean, no?" she asked in less-than-mild surprise. "This place has been used as a half-way house for centuries—"  
>"Don't care," I snapped, "I bought the place, I own the place. I am not using it to house minor characters from a children's book that I've never read. Now, if you excuse me, I'm going to go enjoy a nice steamy bubble bath-" I glared at the mob of people outside my broken down, outskirts of town shack, "—ALONE."<p>

Once again slamming the door in Rowena's face, I cinched my bathrobe's rope tighter. After graduating high school, all I had wanted to do was escape. So, I packed my car and drove in the opposite direction of my parent's house as fast as I could. I didn't know where I was going, but I knew where to stop. I had parked my vehicle in front of a run-down house near the edge of a little town in Missouri. The landlord was looking for a renter as soon as possible, mumbling about a crazy witch loitering on his doorstep. Even though I didn't have a job yet, he practically gave the house to me. The day he moved out, I moved in. Three weeks later, this crazy lady, claiming she's Rowena Ravenclaw, tells me I have to house a bunch of nobodies from "Harry Potter."

Did I believe her? Heck no.

Had I ever read "Harry Potter?" Heck to the no. Not much of a fan of books, or kid's books, for that matter. Or crazy-obsessive fan mobs.

The mumbles and grumbles from outside made me pause. I started to squirm uncomfortably. There was a lot of people outside, most likely crazy. Was it possible they would ram down the door, kill me, and overtake my house? No one really cared I was here, and very few knew, so as long as they kept the rent coming…well, it was possible they could get away with it. Listening in, one voice especially made me nervous.

"Is there any possible way we could convince her?" a graying voice asked.

"I say we just barge in whether she likes it or not," another voice growled (that was the one that scared the crap out of me). The graying voice tried to argue, but then a female jumped in.

"I say Mad-Eye's got a point, Remus," she said, "We could just stun her—"  
>"We don't have magic, remember Tonks?" the one called Remus asked. Tonks snorted.<p>

"Crap. Forgot about that. Well, can't blame her if she thinks we're crazy, right?" There was a murmur of agreement from several other voices. Suddenly another voice popped up, young, tired.

"Is it just wizarding magic that doesn't work?" he asked quietly. I found myself stepping closer to the door.

"…Yes, why do—"

A knock at the door interrupted her sentence. "Can we talk?" the voice asked. I stood still, pretending that I wasn't there. He couldn't tell I was on the other side of the door.

"I know you can hear me."

I still pretended like I wasn't there.

"Look, please. Just…just let me in for a minute. I just want to talk for a minute," his voice sounded on the point of breaking. I could hear a faint sob, the kind you try to hold back, but it comes out anyway. I'm smart. I'm pretty sure there was a bunch of crazy people at my doorstep, and I wasn't too keen on opening that door for any of them. But he sounded so tired...so lost…

"I'm gonna regret this later," I muttered, opening the door. A red-head, a couple of years older than me, was slumped on my doorway. He was tall, covered in cuts and bruises, and his arm was pointed at such an angle it made my stomach twist. Staring at me with eyes so lifeless I thought I was going to be feast for a zombie, he began to plead faintly.

"I want you to show you someone," he said, then looked down and beckoned over a small man with very large ears.

"Forget it," I said unexpectedly, "Just get into the house." I quit caring whether or not all of this was real. All I wanted to do was help the young man in front of me, with the cocked arm and the blank eyes. I was pretty sure they were all crazy, but that didn't mean they weren't human.

As soon as the thought crossed my mind, a loud POP echoed through my hallway, and I screamed, due to the fact the man with the large ears was magically in my hallway.

"At your service, Miss Miranda," he squeaked, giving me a low bow. First thing that popped to my mind was that he probably found my name on an internet search, no big deal, but the next thing that he said freaked me out a bit.

"I am your house elf. I am at your service. Whatever you wish of me, I shall do it."

My eyes almost popped out of my head as I stared at him. I don't think I was the only one confused, however.

"Wait, did Dobby say that? I thought he liked freedom," Tonks muttered.

"Trip addled his brain," Moody growled, "Going from dead to alive was too much for him."

I glanced around. Almost everyone was staring at the "elf" like he was crazy (Personally, I thought that was a cruel thing to call a midget). They red head, however, had a ghost of a smile on his face. Did he…did he want me to test this? I shrugged. Okay, sure, let's play this game.

"Look, um…what's your name?" Couldn't well give an order without a name.

"Dobby, Miss Miranda."

"Okay, Dobby. There's an old house in St. Charles, MO, on 518 Main Street. Inside the house is a room with green walls. In this room there is a dresser. In the bottom left-hand corner of the dresser, there is white envelope with the words "Little Mandy" on it. Go get it."

With that, the elf disappeared. My jaw dropped. Okay, parlor trick, so—

"Your letter, Miss Miranda." Dobby squealed. I tumbled away, colliding with the wall. Shakily, I held out my hand for the letter, which Dobby handed to me with a little bow. Trying to control my trembling hands, I held the letter to my nose. Cupcakes and rosepetals. Smelled just like grandma. The letter I had left behind in my urgency to leave the house. I quit trying to keep calm. I was a quivering mess. This was real. There was no, way, no way in that split second he could have disappeared and reappeared with a letter that smelled of cupcakes and rosepetals. Unless…

I lunged for his arm, squeezing it. Dobby jumped a little bit, eyes wide, but other than that he didn't move. It was soft, fleshy—real.

Suddenly a loud THUNK! resounded from the porch behind me. I bolted upright. The red head was lying unconscious on my porch, face pale and body trembling worse than mine.

"Well," growled Moody, "There goes Weasley."


	2. Leaders and Lonliness

"…fifty-six, fifty-seven," Icounted, finishing with the owl. (She figured the owl and centaurs counted as people.) I whistled. Holy crap, there was a lot of 'em. Forget housing them. How was I supposed to feed them? Before the question left my mouth, Rowena swept into the room, settling down next to a greasy haired man, who looked none too thrilled with his present company.

"You all are probably wondering what's going on here," she began. ("D***-straight," Moody muttered.) "All of that will be explained soon. For now, the basement has opened up to house fifty-people, while seven of you, whom I will appoint as leaders, must live in the upper quar—"

"Hang on now," I interrupted. Bad enough people were squatting in my basement, but there were only three rooms upstairs. Six extra people meant someone would have to split with me, and there was no way greaseball or crazy-spinning-eye-grizzly were bunking up with me. "I think I want a say in who's going to be leading around here. My house, remember?"

Rowena raised an eyebrow at me, looking as if she might argue the point. "Very well then," she conceded. "Who would you choose as leaders?" I paused, staring around the room. Crap. I knew none of these people. How was I supposed to judge who would be the best leaders. I glanced over at the couple on the floor, the graying gentleman and his pink-haired lady. Strange combo, I thought, taking a minute or two to appraise them.

"I want those three," I said, pointing to Remus and Tonks. They had been the strongest (and most sensible) voices in the conversation outside. Strength and sensibility were good for leadership. So was cleverness…

"Where's the red head?" I asked. "I want him too." He was the one, after all, who figured out to use Dobby(the elf) to convince me this was all real. Speaking of the elf."Oh, and Dobby—"

There was an outcry at this point. "An elf?" raged the centaur, "You pick an ELF to lead us? The most pathetic, worthless—"

"—person that can use magic?" I snapped, glaring around the room until my eyes settled on the centaur. "Can anyone else in here use magic? Anyone?" The room was silent. "At this point, he's the strongest out of all you crazy people—" Suddenly the greaseball next to Rowena snapped. In one swift movement he was in my face, so close that his pointed nose almost twanged against hers.

Ho-ley Crap.

"Look, little girl," he whispered scathingly, "I have just survived the worst battle of my life. I'm just as thrilled as you are about these…crude arrangements. Now, keep insulting my sanity, and I can make this experience very…unpleasant…"

Minutes passed as greaseball and I stared each other down. Dang, this guy has guts. Mind you, it doesn't take much guts for a grown man to face down a teenage girl, but I wanted to throw this guy for a loop. "Found my next leader," I said quietly, circling around greaseball (found out later his name was Snape), who looked taken aback, to face the rest of them. I scanned the crowd. Then shrugged. I really didn't care who else was chosen. Long as it wasn't freaky-grizzly man.

"Go ahead Rowena," I said, "Now it's your turn."

Rowena smiled. I didn't like that smile. "Fine then, Moody—"  
>"WHAT?"<p>

"Miranda, I thought you didn't care," Rowena said, stifling a laugh. Ooooo, that was cruel. After the hassle I gave her this morning, I probably should've seen that one coming. I bit my lip, deciding whether or not to argue, but another idea popped into my head. I smirked. Two could play at this game.

"Fine," she said calmly, "But Moody and Snape have to room with each other—"

"WHAT?" Moody and Snape both hollered in unison. I almost froze in shock. I wasn't expecting so good of a reaction. All I had really wanted was to make sure neither of them bunked with me. But hey, the more chaos, the better. I shrugged, then glanced at Rowena.

"Take it or leave it." With that, I spun and sailed promptly out of the room, leaving a horrified Snape, an infuriated Moody, and a chuckling Tonks behind.

A horrible crash echoed in Fred's ears. The building was wrenched asunder all around him, brick and mortar whizzing past him, digging deep into his arms and legs. He heard his arm crack, but he didn't care. "PERCY!" he tried to shout, hoping his brother was alive. He had to be. Fred couldn't bear to lose anyone, whether it was Percy or Ginny or Ron or George…No. Not George.

We'll make it out alive.

We're so close…

So close….

"NO!" Fred screamed. Gasping for air, he glanced around the room. Perhaps it was all just a bad dream, he thought, pushing himself up. Pain shot like a hex through his arm, causing him to collapse back on the bed. Fred fought back a cry of pain as he realized the room was not his own. A huge window let in a dusty stream of sunlight, revealing ripped-up wall paper and a cracked wood floor. The bed was hard, but he didn't notice. All Fred could think about was the fact that it was all real—the dream, the girl, everything.

Which meant he was the only Weasley in this world.

He would never see Percy or Charlie or Bill or RonorGinnyorDadorMomorGeorge again….ever.

Fred bit his lip. _Don't cry. Don't cry d***it_, he thought. _You're supposed to make everyone laugh. You're not supposed to cry. A Weasley twin doesn't cry. _

What Weasley twins? asked a voice in his head. The implications of that question made Fred's stomach churn. He wasn't going to think about that. He wasn't going to think about the fact that George was no longer at his side. That he would never again hear their jointed laughter, never listen to his twin as they discussed new ideas for the joke shop late at night, sinking into each other's minds as only they could—

A hand touched Fred's shoulder. His head shot up. It was George, hole-in-his-ear-George, shaking him awake from this horrible dream. Had to be.

"How are you feeling?" Miranda asked. Fred's mind froze. Not George. It would never be George again.

Fred stared at her. Closing his eyes, he buried his face into the pillow, trying to suffocate his tears. Then something snapped. Small sobs started shaking Fred's body, intensifying until he was howling in unbelievable pain. He didn't care about who he was supposed to be anymore. Whoever he was, it wasn't Fred. Not with suffering like this.

Holy Crap. Holy Crap. Holy Crap. I was NOT good at stuff like this. Should I touch him? Comfort him somehow? Leave him alone? Walk away? I didn't know what to do, so I just sat there. I felt stupid and pathetic, sitting there, not doing anything. It must have been one heck of a battle, one heck of a war, to shatter someone like this. To leave 59 people at my doorstep, who were probably missing the family and friends they would never…Oh gosh…I flushed scarlet.

I had been such a…a…There weren't words to describe how much of a jerk I was being to these people. What a selfish prat. I shook my head. No time for regret. I'd make it up to them all later, after I figured out what to do with this guy.

He was still crying, sobbing the name "George" into his pillow. His brother? His father? Perhaps even his…I blushed even redder at the thought, unable to stop my heart from drooping. Didn't mean I couldn't comfort him though. Tenderly, I started rubbing his back. I don't think he noticed, which in a way was fine by me. At least he wasn't screaming at me to back off. Slowly I kept rubbing, unconsciously humming as well. I can't remember what it was. Something by "The Band Perry", I think.

An hour must have passed before his tears receded. It wasn't until his breathing became even and heavy that I noticed he had fallen asleep. Poor thing. Unsure of what I was doing, I leaned down and kissed his cheek. It always looked good in the movies.

"How is he?"

I jumped. Tonks was leaning against the doorway. I bit my lip. "Horrible," I whispered. "I've never heard anyone cry like that."

Tonks nodded. "Poor kid. At least I have Remus. So many here don't have anyone."

A lump rose in my throat. They were all so alone. "Do you know who George is?" I asked. Tonks sniffed, as if she were trying not to cry.

"His brother," she said, "Twin brother."


	3. One Heck of a Quiche

I sighed, settling onto the loveseat with a cup of hot chocolate. It had been a long, hard day. After the incident with Fred, I had sped to the basement (which had miraculously expanded) to offer any physical, mental, or emotional relief I could. Several times I caught Lupin glancing at me, a confused but pleased smile on his face. Snape and Moody, however, were more confused and less pleased. Maybe this had to do with me setting them up as roommates.

I guess even grown men can act like teenage girls.

Some of the kids were younger than me. One was barely eleven, crying that she would never see her mum again. Unlike with Fred, I scooped her up in my arms and held her as she wept herself to sleep. I sniffed. Stupid war. Why can't bad guys just go jump off a cliff?

"You're crying," Rowena whispered, crouching down next to me. I turned my face away. I hated being caught crying, unless it was on stage. Entirely different story.

"Am not," I muttered. Rowena didn't say anything, but instead pressed a letter into my hand. She leaned in closer, pressing her lips to my ear. Do witches not have a privacy bubble or something?

"This letter contains all you need to know," she whispered, "Good luck."

And with that—POOF!—she disappeared. Multiple thoughts raced through my head.

Wait—wait—WHAT?—YOU'RE LEAVING ME!

Good luck? GOOD LUCK WITH WHAT? I'M 17 AND I'M IN CHARGE!

…In charge of what?

I sighed, curling deeper into the love seat, pulling the letter out of my pocket. Well, it was time to see what this letter said.

_To the owner:_

_This house was built several centuries ago by the founders of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, the intent being that if any student (or anyone, apparently, although it doesn't explain Moody or Dobby—perhaps their teacherhood/service at Hogwarts saved them) died within its walls that child would receive a second chance at life. However, this spell did not take effect until July 31__st__, 1996, meaning that anyone who had died previously would be sent to the afterlife or take the form of a ghost. The line of Muggles that the founders had formed a pact with had also, unfortunately, died out. Although this house has deteriorated, it still retains its magical qualities. This magic is only possible because this is a safe house between the two worlds. _

_Your task, dear owner, is to make sure these people blend into the Muggle world. _I stared at the basement door, gulped, then continued on with the letter. _However, the house's magic provides you some assistance. It enlarges on the inside to house as many people as necessary, and also gives them a talent to blend in with the Muggle world. This talent will reflect one from their previous life, and they will receive as much skill with their new talent as they had with the previous one. _"Whatever that means," I muttered._ Since there are so many students and ex-wizards, your six leaders will help you find the right place for these people, and help you take care of them if necessary. _My thoughts wandered to the little girl downstairs. _Good luck. _

"Wait, that was it?" I called out to thin air. "That's all you gave me?" I groaned and sank lower (if that was possible) into my cozy chair. I barely had my own life in control—how was I supposed to get 59 peoples' lives in order. Before I could wrap myself in self-pity and panic, I heard a beeping noise from the kitchen—the oven.

Who the heck was cooking at this hour?

Curiosity overtaking me, I tip-toed into the kitchen. Peeking behind the doorframe, I watched Slimey Snape pull something out off the oven. He sniffed it, satisfaction glowing all over his face. Carefully setting it on a rack that I didn't know I even had. I leaned in closer to figure out what the dish—

"Is that quiche?" I asked in awe. Quiche—geez, I haven't had a good quiche since I left home. Although, a man as greasy as he was—cooking? Was that food trustworthy, or did slime drip off his nose when he wasn't looking.

Snape, startled, glared at me. "Yes," he said calmly. "Someone left the recipe out—"

"Yeah, been trying to make one for awhile now," I said, eyes on the quiche. Man, did it look good, all steamy and fresh, "But I haven't gotten it to taste right…"

"May I suggest," Snape sneered, "A bowl of cereal. Very few instructions. One such as you—"

"Yeah. Sure. Cereal," I said halfheartedly, unable to take my eyes off of the glorious dish. Holy Crap did it smell good.

"I however, am more than capable of following a simple set of directions," his eyes probably faded into a distant memory, I don't know. I was trying to search through the utensil drawer. "I was a master at Potions. I could bottle fame, brew glory—"

"—and make a d*** good quiche!" I squealed. Snagging the oven mitts, I stole the quiche and ran for my life. That snapped Snape out of his reminiscing coma. I think he said something about handing over the quiche, but I hadn't eaten like this in weeks. This quiche was like my baby.

And momma don't give up her babies.

I scrambled up the stairs, diving into the nearest room. The room was pitch-black, but I didn't care. I had my quiche.

"Safe," I whispered, flicking on the life. Sighing in relief, I spun around, ready to flop on the bed and—

I screamed.

"Really, was that necessary?" Tonks mumbled grumpily, snuggling up closer to Remus. I could barely even look at her. "We're married, you know. It's kind of what we do."

Remus and I were both staring up at the ceiling. "You could have at least locked the door," I whispered, horrified. "Would have been a superb idea."

"We did," Lupin said calmly, massaging Tonks' shoulder. Tonks suddenly blushed.

"Ummm, no, we didn't."

Now it was Lupin's turn to look horrified. "What?"

"Well, after you tore of my shirt—"

I immediately left the room. I was already trying to scrub my eyes with a metal brush, I didn't need my ears being affected too. I sighed dejectedly. I had even lost the quiche. He was probably cuddling with it downstairs right now, chewing on every delicious bite with a victorious smirk, the little slimeball.

Grumbling curses all the way down the hall, stomach rumbling, I entered my room and dressed for bed, hoping breakfast would be good tomorrow. As I went to the bathroom to wash up, a glimmer of starlight caught my eye. I stopped.

There he was, sitting on the window ledge, his head resting against the frame. Remus had finally wrapped his arm in a sling, so the whole picture was a little…well…heart-wrenching. I stood in the doorway, watching him. Gosh, he was handsome. Looked like he was made for the spotlight, but misery, and trauma had sizzled out his fire. If I could just—

"Watching me, are you?"

I flushed. This was worse than walking in on Remus and Tonks. "No," I said defiantly. "Just…just looking at the stars, that's all."

"Mmmmhm," Fred hummed softly, the ghost of a smile on his face. He gazed back up at the stars, leaving me confused and wondering if I should leave. "I don't bite, you know," he whispered, "That is, unless you want me to."

The ghost smile appeared again. Quickly I shuffled to the window. They were beautiful, thousands of glittering stars hanging in the dark. I stood there for minutes in silence. Staring up in the vastness, it wasn't hard to believe in another world, filled with magic and monsters and freckled twins who longed for their brothers. I snuck a glance over at Fred. Could he feel his twin's heartache from so far away?

"What was that song you were humming earlier?" he asked, "When I was…" He trailed off, face paling a bit. I was shocked. I didn't think he had heard me at all.

"Didn't think you were paying attention," I said, unable to hold in my surprise. Fred shrugged.

"It was a bit like background music, ya know? The kind you can sort of hear, but can't really make out what it is," Fred glimpsed at me before star gazing again. "So," he said so quietly I almost didn't catch it, "how'd the rest of the song go?"

I panicked. The song, I realized later, had been "If I Die Young" by _The Band Perry_. If I sang that song now, I knew he would start crying again. I can only deal with so much crying in one day without breaking down myself.

And I hated crying.

I racked my brain quickly, searching for something lighthearted.

_"A customer!  
>Wait! What's yer rush? What's yer hurry?<br>You gave me such a-  
>Fright. I thought you was a ghost.<br>Half a minute, can'tcher?  
>Sit! Sit ye down! Sit!<br>All I meant is that I haven't seen a customer for weeks.  
>Did you come here for a pie, sir?<br>Do forgive me if my head's a little vague-Ugh! What is that?  
>But you'd think we had the plague-<br>From the way that people-  
>keep avoiding-<br>No you don't!  
>Heaven knows I try, sir!<br>But there's no one comes in even to inhale-  
>Right you are, sir. would you like a drop of ale?<em>

_Mind you, I can't hardly blame them_  
><em>These are probably the worst pies in London,<em>  
><em>I know why nobody cares to take them-<em>  
><em>I should know,I make them.<em>  
><em>But good? No,<em>  
><em>The worst pies in London-<em>  
><em>Even that's polite.<em>  
><em>The worst pies in London-<em>  
><em>If you doubt it take a bite<em>

_Is that just, disgusting?  
>You have to concede it.<br>It's nothing but crusting-  
>Here drink this, you'll need it-<br>The worst pies in London-_

_And no wonder with the price of meat_  
><em>What it is when you get it.<em>  
><em>Never thought I'd live to see the day men'd think it was a treat<em>  
><em>Finding poor animals wot are dying in the street.<em>

_Mrs. Mooney has a pie shop,_  
><em>Does a business, but I notice something weird-<em>  
><em>Lately, all her neighbors' cats have disappeared.<em>  
><em>Have to hand it to her-wot I calls enterprise,<em>  
><em>Popping pussies into pies.<em>  
><em>Wouldn't do in my shop-<em>  
><em>Just the thought of it's enough to make you sick.<em>  
><em>And I'm telling you them pussy cats is quick.<em>

_No denying times is hard, sir-_  
><em>Even harder than<em>  
><em>The worst pies in London.<em>  
><em>Only lard and nothing more-<em>  
><em>Is that just revolting?<em>  
><em>All greasy and gritty,<em>  
><em>It looks like it's molting,<em>  
><em>And tastes like-<em>  
><em>Well, pity<em>  
><em>A woman alone<em>  
><em>With limited wind<em>  
><em>And the worst pies in London!<em>

_Ah sir,_  
><em>Times is hard. Times is hard."<em>

And of course the first thing that pops into my head is a song about making cats into pies from a musical about a maniacal barber who cuts people up and makes them into said pies.

Fred chuckled. It was tiny, itty-bitty, but it sounded like a laugh that had a lot of practice. "You muggles are so odd," he whispered. I flushed. I didn't know what that word meant, but it didn't sound like anything very pretty or complimenting.

"I should probably go to bed," I said swiftly, turning to walk away. Suddenly his hand grabbed my arm.

"Wait, please?" he pleaded. I glanced at him. He looked so small, almost like a lost child. Biting his lip, he loosened his hold on my arm. His face was turning redder than his hair. "I'm sorry," he whispered, almost timidly, "It's just….I'm not used to being alone."

Our eyes met for a split second. Slowly, carefully, I walked over to the window, closer to Fred. His hand slid down my arm, brushing my hand. He clutched it. Tight. Like everything else in the world had let go of him, and I was the only thing left.

_Author's Note: Worst Pies in London belongs to Sweeney Todd. All of it. _


	4. Patronuses

I could never have imagined that one person could have so much stress. The morning after the "quiche incident" I had gathered all of the "leaders" (if that's what you can call us) to try to figure out what to do. The only thing we could come up with is to figure out jobs for the adults, and try to enroll the teens into school. That's difficult enough, but then we have about 57 frustrated people who have grown up with magic, and suddenly can no longer use it. I couldn't tell you how many times I've walked in on someone waving their arm aimlessly in the air, suddenly looking sheepish or mad. Especially the angsty teens. Two boys started duking it out, while one girl spent a whole afternoon sobbing in the bathroom.

Fred who, amazingly, seemed to be recuperating quite well, had a great knack for handling the students. Several times I caught him breaking up a fight with a joke, coaxing the boys into laughing along with him. He even spent two hours outside of the bathroom comforting a broken girl. At meetings, he was light-hearted (possibly even flirtatious?). Fred really was a wonderful conversationalist. Best banter in my life. Not only that, but I don't think I've ever had so much fun doing dishes with someone. I've never seen so many bubbles from one washing machine…or have gotten into such an awesome suds fight. In front of everyone, he was a prankster, quick with a smile and the right thing to say.

I couldn't help but wonder, though, how he was holding up on the inside. No one can mend grief that fast.

"Miss Miranda? Miss Miranda?"

Dobby was calling. I ignored him.

"Miranda?"

I glanced up from the television. "Yeah Dobby?"

"Dobby would like to know if Miranda knows why the clothes-washer is smoking—"

I jumped. That was another problem. Wizards and technology don't mix. One of the adults almost broke the TV because it wouldn't respond back when he asked why the h*** they shot the camel. Too used to talking to portraits Moody explained to me. Phones weren't as bad, but a couple of witches almost stuck their heads in the fireplace…when it was going… That would have been a difficult one to explain to the local hospital.

"I'm sorry," Tonks squeaked. "I was trying to get some laundry done. Oh, I was always bad with household magic!"

I tried to explain for the 5,492 time that week that none of this was magic, but decided against it. A scream erupted from Tonks as the washing machine started on fire.

"Aguamenti—Oh *$%#! That doesn't work anymore!" Tonks cried out in panic. Dobby (who still had magic, thank goodness) put out the fire. I stared at the washing machine. Then I started to laugh. Hard. With everything that had been going on this week, and not being able to work (trying to sort out the affairs of 59 people is a 25/7 job), I collapsed into a laughing fit.

Dobby and Tonks stared at me nervously. I kept laughing like the Joker at the Arkham Asylum.

I. had. lost. it.

Fifteen minutes later, with Dobby's eyes still trained on me (Tonks had run to grab Lupin), I giggled and wiped a tear away.

"Oohhh…I'm gonna go shower now," I said calmly. Then locked myself in the bathroom for the next five hours.

I blared the radio as hot water blasted from the showerhead. I'm pretty sure I went through _Spring Awakening_ about 57 times. By the time the shower temperature lowered, I had sang/screamed myself hoarse. When I heard my teeth chattering louder than the CD, it was time to come out. I laid on the floor for the next three hours, not caring when Moody called me down to dinner, or when Lupin yelled something about a quiche.

Geez, I didn't even care about quiche. It was bad.

I closed my eyes, snuggling up to the CD player as Lea sang "Mama Who Bore Me". I couldn't handle this anymore. I was eighteen, barely making ends meet. How was I supposed to take care of 59 people? I curled up closer to the CD player, softly singing along. I missed my mom. I missed my dad. I missed my grandma. Why did I leave again? Oh, that's right, because I failed miserably in school and wanted to succeed in a career in theatre. Stupid girl.

I fell asleep. I don't know how long I fell asleep for. All I know is that when I woke up, I was in my bed again. Sleepwalking? I did have a tendency to do that, except it usually involved a pair of castanets and grandma baking baklava at 3 in the morning. But no, no baklava, no castanets. No grandma. I sighed and curled up tighter to my pillow, wishing for her loving voice.

Suddenly my stomach rumbled. Crap. I was hungry. Making sure to wake no one else up, I tiptoed downstairs into the kitchen. Funny, the light was on…

Someone was crying . Peering around the doorframe, I saw Fred on the floor, drinking heavily from a bottle of Patron. I should just leave, I thought, but a floorboard creaked under my feet, loud enough that the redhead looked up. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair mussed up, and a tipsy smile was falling off his face as he stared at me.

"…Morning…" I mumbled, opening the fridge. There was a piece of quiche inside. Lupin had just earned brownie points for tomorrow's meeting. I had sat down when Fred finally decided to reply.

"Mornin'" Fred replied, gulping down more alcohol. Desperately wanting to leave the room, I shoveled down my quiche in silence. "Feelin' better?" he asked. I nodded.

"Good, 'cuz you're pretty heavy fo' bein' so dang skinny," he glanced down at my feet. "Your toes are adorable."

I wiggled my toes. Pudgy little piggies at the end of my feet. Fred chuckled, leaning his head on my chair, his fingers tickling my feet. I laughed, almost choking on my quiche. Quickly I pulled my feet up, out of range of those devilish hands. Fred, however, merely laughed, scooting closer and tickling harder. I laughed harder, barely able to breathe as Fred pulled himself up on the chair next to me. The next thing I knew, we were on the floor, chair tipped over and broken china scattered. I laughed harder, tears pouring down my face. So was Fred—crying, at least. When the laughter collapsed into giggles, Fred stared at me. He smiled, brushing hair away from my eyes.

"It's funny," Fred whispered, "How much Patron is like a Patronus." He leaned in closer. Was he drunk? Yes. Did I care? Not really. I felt his lips brush mine, tasted the Patron on his breath. Fred tugged my waist, drawing me to him, forcing my lips onto his.

It was wonderful. The need, the pain, the lust, all wrapped into one astounding kiss. Well, at least from my end. I was really out of friggin' practice. I was so happy he was drunk.

When our lips parted, the first thing I glanced at was Fred's eyes. They were blurry, but dancing. So were his lips. He looked happier than I had ever seen him. He must have been _really_ wasted. We kissed again.

Man, Fred was gone.

We were in lip-lock for a long time after that. When it finally stopped, Fred gazed longingly in my direction. The drunken world seemed to stand still. A smile played on his lips as he leaned in closer, breath hot and musty against my ear.

"It makes all the bad things go away."


	5. Let Sleeping Weasleys Lie

"Miranda? Miranda?"

My eyes fluttered open. I was surrounded by full-grown men, staring down at me as I laid on the floor with a hung over man. Meh, could have been worse. At least none of them were my father.

"Yeah?" I asked quietly. I really didn't want to wake Fred up. Either he had forgotten the night before, or completely regretted it. They were the two most likely possibilities after our drunk make-out session, and honestly, I didn't want to face either.

Moody crouched down next to me, his eyes boring into mine, magical eye swiveling around in its socket. I swear, it made me want to wet my pants. Up close, with all those scars and a ripped up nose, Moody's pretty terrifying. No wonder he was such a good bad-wizard-catcher. He stayed like that for several minutes, and I almost started screaming from sheer terror—

"CONSTANT VIGALANCE!" he hollered _directly_ in our ears. I yelped, jumping ten feet off the floor without even standing up. Fred groaned, tightening into a ball, trying to block out the loud noises. Moody let out a noise that could've been a chuckle, except laughter from such a terrifying being was impossible.

Slowly Fred sat up, shading his eyes from the 'blinding' sunlight. "What the.." he groaned, then winced at the sound of his own voice. Fred, still shading his eyes, glanced around the room, first to the tipped-over chair, then to the china shards. Then, finally, he looked at me. "Oh ccrrruuuudddd…."

My stomach dropped. He remembered.

Lupin mercifully closed the curtains. "Thanks," Fred whispered, "Gosh, that was one heckuva night."

"And the reason there is broken china on my kitchen floor is—"

I glared at Snape. "Since when is this your kitchen?" I asked. Sure, he was the only one capable of pulling something edible out of that oven, but that didn't mean he owned the place. Snape, however, ignored me. "Well, Weasley?"

Fred didn't respond. Instead, he did the impossible. Wrapping his arms around my waist, he pulled me into a kiss so fierce it almost knocked me senseless. Tonks whistled. I could hear Snape choking on his own grease. It felt like eternity before we parted. A blissful, impossible eternity.

"What—W-What was that for?" I stuttered. Fred smirked, then leaned in closer 'til our foreheads tapped each other. He ran a hand tenderly through my hair.

"Just wanted to see if it was as good sober," he said softly. I nodded, kissing him one more time. I felt his arm trembling…hang on…

"Uhm…Fred?" I asked.

"Yeah?"

"Isn't your arm…broken?"

"Yeah."

"Does it hurt?"

"Oh yeah. Hurts like h***."


	6. The Book

After the morning of the first kiss, things became progressively easier...sorta.. Slowly, we found jobs for about half of the adults in the group, including Remus and Moody becoming teachers, math at the middle school and chemistry at the high school respectively. (Apparently not only does the house supply clothing, but also teaching, business, and multiple other degrees. Remus said something about the house being connected to the alternate universe, so there was some residual magic. Snape found a position as chef at the local diner…which was also where I worked. Needless to say, this caused a lot of tension at the house.

"I assumed," Snape said as he strolled into the kitchen after a miserable evening shift, "That when someone requests an omelette, they would not also ask to "hold the egg."

"That's what she told ME," I stormed, throwing my purse onto the counter, "She said, 'I'll take the French omelette, but hold the mother-cluckin' EGG!'"

"Really? She said it like that?" Fred asked, strolling in with a sandwich the size of his head. "That's odd. I thought the correct phrase was—"

I shot Fred a glare that could sizzle bacon. He smirked, but declined from finishing his sentence, thank you very much. Snape raised a condescending eyebrow at Fred.

"Has you on a leash already, does she Weasley?" he sneered, "Never thought you would be one to take commands."

Fred shrugged as he rummaged through the fridge. "Nah. I just don't want to be a virgin for the next 40 years." He peeked out from behind the fridge, looking Snape up and down. "Yeah," he said, "Definitely don't want to stay a virgin." Snape turned a lovely shade of indigo.

"So that's what this is all about," I grumbled playfully, "I thought we had so much more."

Fred lightly kissed my cheek. "Aw, Miranda, it's so much more than that."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You clothe me, feed me, let me sleep in your house. I'm basically you're—"

"Found a job yet, Mr. Weasley?" Snape cut him off. Fred flashed him a big, you-ain't-gettin-my-goat grin.

"Actually, I did," he said. "Server at the _Fox 'N Tortoise_ Bar. You could say I charmed my way in." Fred winked at me, knowing I'd catch his cute little play on words. Well, I thought it was cute anyways. Snape, not so much. Before he could come up with a 'witty' retort, however, Colin Creevey crashed through the door.

"LET ME SEE! LET ME SEE!" a previous Ravenclaw fifth year named Sara hollered. "Colin! Come on!"

"No!" Colin yelped, positively panicked. He clutched the book to his chest, as if releasing it would unleash doom and peril and all that fun stuff. Fred and I glanced at the book, then to each other. Surely a sixteen year old boy was too old to be carrying a diary.

"Colin, let me see it," I coaxed gently. Something in his eyes made me realize he would have only handed it to me, and me only. I looked at the cover. _War and Peace_ by Leo Tolstoy. Oookkaayy, didn't consider this book to be a life-or-death situation.

Then I opened it.

It wasn't _War and Peace_.

"Where did you find this?" I whispered, flipping through the pages. Fred….Moody….Tonks…Lupin…Their names popped out amongst the millions of words. Should they read this? Probably not…or was it a bad idea? Either way, this wasn't something I wanted to discuss tonight.

"Hey, who's Lily?"

D*** me and my big mouth.

Fred shot my a confused look, while Snape turned pale (if that was even possible, as white as he was).

"Lily who?" Fred asked, trying to peek over my shoulder. I twisted away from him, skimming a couple of pages.

"Lily…um…Evans?" I asked. The name, apparently, struck a chord with Snape.

"GIVE ME THAT BOOK!" he screamed in fury, lunging toward me. I shrieked, scrambling toward the door as Fred held off Snape. Miraculously, Remus and Tonks appeared in the doorway. Searching for safety, I barreled into them. Surely Remus and Tonks, the most parental of the group, would protect me. Plus, Tonks was a bad-wizard-catcher. Extra bonus.

"What's wrong?" Remus asked in shock as he pulled Fred and Snape away from each other. Snape, gasping like he ran a marathon, looked murderous. He said nothing to Remus or Fred. Instead, he stared at me as if I was the most dangerous person in the universe. Or at least, in our universe.

"Give. Me. The. Book." Snape whispered darkly and deadly. I shook my head. After all of the times Snape had tormented me and humiliated me at work, it was time for some vengeance.

"So…you loved Lily Evans, huh?" I asked. I thought it was a secret childhood crush, or a first kiss, or something embarrassing like that. The reaction was A LOT more intense than I thought it would be.

Remus' jaw dropped, and his grip on Snape went slack. A split second later I was on the floor, crying out in pain as Snape squeezed my throat.

"SHUT UP!" he screamed, "SHUT UP YOU STUPID LITTLE—"

I gasped, forcing air back into my lungs. Fred had just knocked Snape over, generating a fist-fight, which was pretty crazy for two people who were used to casting spells. Remus finally came back to his senses and threw Snape off of Fred with unexpected force. Especially from kind, father-like Remus.

"You loved Lily?" he gasped, helping Fred up to his feet. Fred looked white, breathing hard as he held his arm to his side. Snape looked like someone just sent him to his own private h***.

"Yes," he whispered, agonized. "I loved her. I loved her until the day I died."

Which was funny, coming from his mouth.

"I always loved her, then that dirty, arrogant….Potter…" Snape could barely spit the words out, "came and took…took her."

Remus stared at him, as though he just realized Snape existed. "Dumbledore's reason for trusting you…"

"I swore to protect Potter…for his…his…" Snape charged out of the room, leaving stunned silence. I felt like the worst person in the world. I didn't think it was something so terrible. I just let out this man's deepest, darkest secret. Sure, I hated his guts, but nobody deserved that.

"What's that book, Miranda?"

Remus didn't even look at me, which made my stomach drop from my feet all the way down to the basement floor. He knew what horrible crime I had just committed.

"It's….the history of Harry Potter…except here…it's fiction…" I stuttered. "About how Harry defeats Voldemort, and about his friends and—"

"Is there anything about us?" Fred asked, almost panic-stricken. "About our families? About—" Fred looked like he couldn't bear to finish his sentence. He looked away from me. Does he hate me now? Could I blame him if he did? I would be mad, too, furious, if someone knew the fate of all my family and friends, and didn't tell me. It's just…with everything going on…I completely forgot about the books. I never read them, never thought about them, so they just didn't cross my mind.

"I…I don't know," I whispered, tearing up. "I never read it." Colin pulled the book out of my hands, gripping it to his chest. Everyone was staring at me as if I just spat on holy ground. I buried my face in my hands. I never wanted to disappear so much in my life.

"Everyone else lives," Colin mumbled. He glanced over at Remus. "Your son is happy, he grows up with Tonk's mom, and Harry takes care of him." A small smile spread across Tonk's face, her eyes filling with tears. Remus knelt down and held her in his arms as she began to cry. Fred stared at Colin, his eyes draining of all light, dark as the day he appeared on my doorstep.

"And my family?" he whispered. Colin gave a little chuckle.

"Well, Ron married Hermione, Ginny married Harry, and Bill and Fleur had a kid—"

"And George? What about George?"

Colin glanced down, bit his lip, and shrugged. "Doesn't say anything, really. Only that he survived the first battle…but your mom kicks a**!" he said excitedly, "She kills Bellatrix Lestrange!"

Tonks let out a watery laugh. The ghost smile appeared on Fred's face.

"Awesome," he said quietly. The last thing he said before he stood up and walked away. My eyes followed him, my body unsure. Should I go after him? Apologize? Would he hate me? Everything was going so well…

"Go after him," Tonks whispered. She gently nudged my face out of my hands. "He's not mad at you. None of us are."

"Really?" I hiccupped, wiping my eyes on my sleeve. "You're not mad. Even though I didn't tell you about the books?"

"Well, you never read them," she said as she pulled me into a hug. "You didn't know what was in them. Perhaps you thought you were saving us from something horrible."

I shrugged. Perhaps subconsciously, I thought of that, but deep down, I knew I was selfish. I just didn't want to have to deal with any feelings it might have caused. Not while Fred was so happy. I wanted him happy. He was so wonderful, so funny, so sweet when he was happy.

Or maybe he hadn't been happy. Hadn't he been drunk the night he kissed me? Why had he drank all that Patron? I remembered what he said that night, about making all the bad things go away. Were the bad things nightmares about the war?

Would the bad things ever go away?


	7. Expecto Patronum

The door was locked.

Crap.

"Fred?" I whispered softly. "Fred? Are you there?"

I tried the doorknob again. Still locked. Dread bubbled up in my stomach. Was he doing something we'd both regret? Oh please, please, please. I'd be Snape's dishwasher for the rest of my life, if only Fred would just be okay.

"Fred," I called out. Now I was starting to get mad. "Frederick Weasley, you open the door right this—"

Suddenly the door flew open and Fred burst out from the darkness. "Never," he snapped, with such ferocity I was on the verge of wetting myself for the third time this month, "Call me that again." We stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, one that was nowhere near as pleasant as kissing was. How did I not notice how bloodshot his eyes were, how deep the bags were under his eyes? Or maybe I was trying to ignore it the whole time.

"Why didn't you tell me? About the book," he asked harshly, turning his back toward me. My mouth went dry. My face blushed.

"Because…well…I…I didn't want to ruin things…" I fumbled. "Because everything was so fantastic, so perfect—"

"For you," Fred snapped. I drew back, as if someone struck me with a cane. "The truth hurts" was never really a phrase I understood—until now. "So, in other words you didn't tell me because you were a selfish prat?"

What could I say to that? "Yeah, pretty much," I mumbled. Fred snorted in disbelief.

"To think I even kissed you, even liked you," he muttered darkly, "A selfish little %$#!"

Tears blurred my vision, but so did something else: anger. I was not going to be brought down without a fight.

"Well Mr. Weasley," I apologized sarcastically, "Forgive me for wanting you to be happy."

"You think this is happiness?" he barked, whipping around to face me. "Every night, knowing that you can never go home again, never see your family again. Every night waking up in a cold sweat from another nightmare," he stepped closer with every sentence. "Every night, crying out for a brother you will never see again, a twin who's stood by you every waking moment of your life, and now gone?" We were nose to nose now, so close Fred could grip my shoulder, digging his nails into my skin. I was terrified. "You think that's happiness?"

I wasn't about to show how scared I was. "What good would it do, dwelling on something you can't change? I can't send you back to Hogwarts, Fred. I can't bring your twin to our world. If I could send you back to George, I—"

"DON'T SAY HIS NAME!" Fred screamed with such agony and rage I fell to my feet. My fear overcame me, and I began to cry. The person who for the last two weeks kissed my lips goodnight, who made me laugh, and who had the power to make me cry, was screaming at me for something that was only half my fault. I buried my head in my knees and just continued to cry.

Dead silence.

"Miranda?" Fred whispered. The anger in his voice was replaced by horror and guilt. "Miranda? Miranda, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry." There was a shake in his voice, something unstable, that made me sob harder.

"Oh %$^#. Oh $#$. What the h*** is wrong with me," Fred choked out. "I'm sorry, Miranda. I don't know what's wrong with me. I-I can't sleep. Every night, I-I wake up, wake up screaming. I keep dying over and over again, and every time it _hurts_." He speeds up, stumbling on the words before they come out. "It's not magic, it's rocks and stones burying me, hitting my body this way and that way until everything hurts. Then," his breath catches as if he's trying to hold back a sob, "then I wake up, and George—George isn't there. I-I know it's not a big deal to you, you don't have a twin, you don't get it, but…half of me's gone, Miranda. Half of me is gone and I can't get it back." Fred's sobbing now, and I can barely make out what he says. "And I-I've been trying so hard. I'm strong, I'm funny, I don't bring people down, I'm supposed to make people happy. And now I've gone and made you c-c-cry…"

His whole body's trembling at this point. I've quit crying, and I've watched way too many war movies not to realize Fred's going through PTSD—at least, some form of it. I didn't think you could hide PTSD so well. I crawl over to him and let him curl up in my arms. He apologizes over and over again, and I keep shushing him, trying to tell him it's alright. He's skinny and pale, almost glowing in the darkness. I never noticed before how I could feel his shoulders stick out so much, or watched the bags under his eyes grow bigger and bigger.

Why, why am I such a dumba**?

Fitfully he falls asleep. I stroke his hair, which is damp with sweat. It's late, past one in the morning, and it feels like I barely closed my eyes when Fred wakes up screaming.

"Fred, Fred, you're okay," I whisper into his ear, "I'm here. I'm here. It's all right."

He's shaking now. Sobbing and shaking and screaming out for George. Fred's eyes are wide open, but he doesn't see me. He only sees exploding stones, gashing through his body and cracking bones in his arms. He hears his own voice begging for his brother, not mine trying hard to soothe him. Has it been like this every night?

I'm wide awake, unsure of what to do. I stare out into the darkness, the nothingness, and a voice whistles in my ear words I've never heard before. But I'm desperate, so anything's worth a shot.

"_Expecto Patronum_."

I see something prowl into the room, a glass hyena stalks over, sniffing Fred's sweaty brow. It nuzzles him, a purr rumbling deep from its throat. For some strange reason, I don't feel alarmed. Instead, I feel comforted, happy almost. Subconsciously I stroke Fred's hair. He's gone quiet. His breathing's even and slow, as if he's fallen into a deep, steady sleep. I close my eyes. It was time for me to sleep too.

"Thank you," I whisper.


	8. Empty Orchestra

The next week Fred barely spoke to me. Sure, around everyone else Fred acted cheerful, like nothing happened, but there was no flirtatious wit, no kisses after a long day of work (which was especially difficult now that Snape was out to get me). It was like he wanted to forget that night ever happened, but I couldn't. I couldn't get that hyena out of my mind, and those words—the words that I couldn't explain how I knew, a foreign language I couldn't interpret. I didn't want to ask the others. If Fred wanted to keep this secret, then I would to.

But how?

By Saturday my frustrations were coming to a peak. Tonks, who was downright giggly and almost annoying once she and Remus discovered he was no longer a werewolf, decided to cheer me up.

"Miranda," she said, "Remus, me, and a couple of others are heading out to the bar tonight. It's been a long week for a lot of us. Moody said he'd keep an eye on the young ones." Tonks chuckled. Ever since Moody had taken a teaching position the fear of God had been placed into each of their hearts. "I know you're not legal yet, Miranda, but it'll still be a good time. What do you say?"

I stared at my peanut butter sandwich. The past week had been nothing but house and work (which was all really the same, considering all the massive amount of effort it was taking to find everyone a job). But still, what was there for me to do? I couldn't drink, and I didn't want to flirt. I was about to decline, but then Tonks said the one thing that could possibly hook me in.

"It's karaoke night."

I loved karaoke. Although it had no importance in improving my non-existent theatre career, it had the same effect as getting me drunk. It made me happy and forgetful of everything. I glared at Tonks. She just grinned. She knew exactly what she was doing.

"Fine," I grumbled. Tonks laughed, kissing me on the cheek.

"It'll be fun. I promise."

?

"Oh crap," Tonks muttered, staring at the bartender. "I completely forgot."

I sighed, watching Fred wink at one of the pretty ladies at the bar. He had an air of confidence about him, one that wore like a familiar leather jacket. Even from the door people were drawn to him, his charisma leaking to every corner of the room. Maybe that's how it all escaped me. Staring at him now, I could see the bags under his eyes, the paleness of his face, but no one else could. Fred's charm was just too overwhelming.

"Let's get this over with," I muttered under my breath. I plastered a grin on my face and threw an arm around Laura, another witch that had come with us (and who was a complete riot and single). "Shall we, sugar?" I asked in a faux southern accent. Chuckling, Laura threw her arm around me.

"Yeah, sweet teah," she replied in the same fake accent. "Let's get this party on a roll."

Giggling like a bunch of teenage girls, we hopped onto the nearest barstools. Remus gave a low chuckle, kissing Tonks on the cheek as they settled in next to us, along with another witch and wizard, Cassidy and Morgan.

"So, ladies and gents, what'll we be having to—" Fred's eyes almost lost their spark when he saw me. I tried to shoot a smile at him, but he turned toward Morgan instead. "Well, well, look who it is," he said with a lopsided smile. "Where's old grease-nose and Mad-Eye?"

"Snape's at the diner," I said, hoping to coax a response out of him, "Moody's watching the youngsters at the house. Constant Vigilance!" I shouted. Everyone laughed except for Fred, who didn't even glance at me. It was like that for the next hour. Until karaoke started at 10.

Karaoke in Japanese means "empty orchestra." Unfortunately, some people were also empty of tune and pitch. One man tried singing Shania Twain while drunk (tried being the key word). He also fell of the stage while shrieking out the last note, and at that point Fred had helped him to his feet, helping him stagger into a bow. The man probably would have been laughed off stage if not for Fred's grace and humor. Tonks and Remus (who was a little off pitch, but adorable nonetheless) did a sappy sweet version of "Don't Go Breakin' My Heart" by Elton John. Girls were whispering "Why don't we ever do that?" to their men. Some men rolled their eyes, some got balls and did a number with their ladies, and others just downed another beer.

I felt someone watching me. I glanced over at Fred, who immediately looked away. I couldn't take it anymore. How could I tell him I didn't care, would fight for him, love him no matter what, if he wouldn't even let me speak? If he wouldn't stay near me for one second?

If I couldn't get him alone, I was gonna have to blare it over the loudspeakers.

I raced up to the karaoke machine, tampering with it until I found the right song. Thank goodness it was on there. I snuck a look over at Fred. He was staring away from me, trying to engage in conversation with a tube-topped blonde. He was trying to ignore me, but I didn't care. He would hear me, one way or another. I opened my mouth to sing:

_It's like a storm  
>That cuts a path<br>It's__breaks__ your will  
>It feels like that<em>

Fred had stopped chatting with the blonde. He was staring at me in disbelief, lips parted. Our eyes met.

_You think your lost  
>But you're not lost on your own<br>You're not alone  
>I will <em>_stand by__ you  
>I will help you through<br>When you've done all you can do  
>If you can't cope<br>I will dry your eyes  
>I will fight your fight<br>I will hold you tight  
>And I won't let go<em>

He was shaking his head, as if telling me to pull back. Forget him. "I'm not worth it," he mouthed. I shook my head.

_It hurts my heart  
>To see you cry<br>I know it's dark  
>This part of life<br>Oh it finds us all  
>And we're too small<br>To stop the rain  
>Oh but when it rains<em>

_I will stand by you  
>I will help you through<br>When you've done all you can do  
>And you can't cope<br>I will dry your eyes  
>I will fight your fight<br>I will hold you tight_

The blonde touched his arm, trying to pull him to her, but Fred shook her off. His eyes were closed, knuckles white as he gripped the bar. Biting his lip, Fred was desperately trying not to cry. Not in front of all these people.

_And I won't let you fall  
>Don't be afraid to fall<br>I'm right here to catch you  
>I won't let you down<br>It won't get you down  
>Your gonna make it<br>Yea I know __you can make it_

_Cause I will stand by you  
>I will help you through<br>When you've done all you can do  
>And you can't cope<br>And I will dry your eyes  
>I will fight your fight<br>I will hold you tight  
>And I wont let go<br>Oh I'm gonna hold you  
>And I wont let go<br>Wont let you go  
>No I wont<em>

Everyone was clapping, as if it were a normal song with no hidden meaning. Some knew better. Tonks' eyes were shooting from me to Fred and back again. Fred looked like he might have a panic attack. Quickly he whispered something into the manager's ear, who nodded. Fred retreated out of the bar, pushing past Snape as he walked in.

Ignoring Snape's stinkeye toward me, I followed Fred out of the bar. He was sitting in a bench outside of the bar, head trembling in his hands. Without a word, I carded my hand through his hair. It felt like an hour before Fred found his voice.

"I don't want to hurt you," he whispered timidly, staring at the ground. I raised a confused eyebrow at him.

"Fred, what are you—"

"I-I don't yell like that. I've never yelled at anyone like that." Fred gulped, his eyes studying the bench arm. "What if I do something else I don't do, like hit you or—"

"You're not gonna hit me," I scoff, "And even if you do, so what?"

Fred stared at me like I had lost my marbles. "Oh, so you don't mind having an abusive maniac for a boyfriend, fantastic," he said sarcastically, "I'll make sure to take a swing at you every so often then—"

"No you twit," I sighed. "I just mean that—look, I know this isn't who you really are—"

"You barely even know me," Fred retorted, "What if this is what I'll always be like. What if—"

"Then I'll deal," I shot back. I was starting to get aggravated. "Look, Fred. You need help. You're keeping this all bottled up, and it's going to explode. Let me help you. Let all of us help you—Tonks, Remus, Laura, Mo-okay, maybe not Moody, but you get the point. Fred," I whispered, gently taking both hands. "Let me fight this with you."

Fred bit his lip, staring upward. He was trying to look everywhere but at me. "I'm supposed to make everyone laugh, not bring them down with my prob—"

"Fred," I gasped, exasperated. "You are _my_ problem, okay? You're life isn't an act on Comedy Central—"

"On what—"

"Shut up and listen. Look, you're human. You're in mourning. Look at yourself!" I cried, gesturing to him. " You're wasting away, and honestly, I don't blame you. You've lost everyone you've ever loved—"

"Not everyone," he whispered, finally meeting my eyes. I stopped dead. Fred held my gaze for a little longer, squeezing my fingers in his hands.

"Do you honestly know what you're getting into?" he muttered softly. "This isn't going to be easy. I'm going to be difficult. I can't sleep. I can't eat. It could take months, years, before this stops. Maybe it never will. Do you really want to be around someone like that, even for a little while?"

I studied him. His hands were trembling against mine, his eyes tired and teetering on the edge of death. There was no smile on his face, only an anxious frown. But I knew there was more. I saw that spark of who he used—no, who he was. "Are you happy with me?" I asked. Fred looked taken aback by the question.

"Yeah," he said. "Every moment I'm with you."

"Even when we're not kissing?"

He screwed his face up, as if pondering the question. "I guess," he said slowly, a smirk pulling the corners of his mouth. I laughed.

"Then let me make you happy. No matter how bad things get, you'll always have a little bit of happiness," I said, pulling him into a hug. Fred moaned softly, burying his face into my shoulder.

"Solemnly swear?" he whispered. I chuckled and kissed him on top of his head.

"Solemnly swear."

**Author's note: "I Won't Let Go" belongs to Rascal Flatts. Thank you everyone who reviews this fanfiction. It helps me keep writing, it really does. **


	9. Fever Dream

The next two weeks were rough. Every night, Fred and I would talk until one of us fell asleep. Usually me, because Fred was more scared of his dreams than I was of mine. I would then wake up to his screams. I was a light sleeper, so even a whimper could open my eyes. Some nights were more difficult than others, especially the ones where I couldn't summon the hyena. I hadn't asked yet, mainly because every morning after, I forgot the words the house whispered to me. Anyways, if I was lucky, I could lure Fred into a peaceful sleep by 2 a.m. (with the hyena, of course). If I was alone, it could take me until 5 in the morning. Mind you, I told Fred absolutely none of this. The nightmares made him forget anything from the night before, so he always thought I went to sleep at midnight.

After a successive week of 5 a.m. bedtimes (and 7 a.m. shifts with 3 Rockstars and a Redbull), I woke up to voices. Blurry voices, like someone had popped cotton into my ears.

"She's been getting worse, Lupin."

"I know. Her fever's pretty high—"

"And she looks worse than you, which is a REALLY difficult task right there."

"Maybe Snape poisoned her."

"Snape wouldn't do that."

"I dunno, Remus. He's been pretty ticked."

The voices faded. I felt myself falling, down a heavy abyss. I wondered if this was what a coma felt like. The nausea that should've been there disappeared the deeper I descended. Falling, falling, falling—it took forever until I landed.

It was an odd little kitchen that I plopped into. Definitely looked like a lot of people lived there, cozy, warm. I glanced around. No one was there right now. I glanced at the clock to check the time…except it didn't tell time…

"What the…" I muttered. Where the numbers should be were different locations—Home, School, Work, Traveling, Qudditch (Fred had explained it to me in a late night conversation. Sounded like fun), and Dead. The hand pointing to Dead was constructed out of letters spelling…

Fred…

I reached to turn the clock hand. It wasn't right. They needed an "alternate universe" option on this thing. Crazy thing was, when I went to adjust it, my hand went right through. I panicked, letting out a stream of curse words as I withdrew my hand. What the heck was going on?

Suddenly a scream erupted from the doorway. Freaked out at both my transparent situation and another voice, I screamed.

"Who the h*** are you?" the man shrieked. He was a redhead, just like Fred, except he had horn-rimmed glasses. Something about him seemed familiar. By now, I figured I was in Fred's house. How, I don't know (which freaked me out even more), but Fred had told me plenty about it, so it wasn't hard to put two and two together. This was one of his brothers, but which one?

"I'm Miranda," I said. "Look, I'm not here to hurt you or anything. In fact, I have no clue how I got here. Look—Percy!" Finally, I remembered that guy's friggin' name. Percy jumped about ten feet in the air at the sound of his name.

Fred was right. He was easy to scare.

"How do you know my name?" he snapped, edging toward me closer with his wand. I couldn't think of anything else to tell him but the truth.

"Fred told me."

Percy almost peed his pants, his face paling to a whey color. "I…I…Do they have girlfriends in the afterlife?"

I was about to tell him off for being stupid, but then I looked at the foot standing halfway in the couch. Well, I really couldn't argue with how that looked, which was going to make this difficult. How do I explain to someone that I'm not dead, especially when evidence pointed to the contrary?

"Look, I'm not dead. I know I look dead!" I snapped as Percy huffed, "but I'm not. I'm from an alternate world, and I don't know how the heck I got here, all I know is that..."

I stopped. Standing right in front of me was a perfect mirror image of Fred, down to the last freckle. Even the same tired, broken look shone in his eyes.

"Hi George," I whispered. George stared at me relentlessly.

It was kind of awkward.

"What do you mean, Fred is in an alternate universe?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "How can we trust you?"

Well, that was a good question. After all, a ghost appearing in your kitchen telling you she got down and dirty with your twin brother (well, not really, but close) was a bit of a stretch to believe. I'd have to say something to convince him I was telling the truth. But what? The perfect solution popped into my head.

"Fred told me, about when you two were little, he transfigured Ron's teddy bear into a spider because Ron broke his favorite broomstick." George rolled his eyes.

"Well, yeah, everyone knew that—"

"—But it wasn't _Fred's_ toy broom, was it George?"

George paled and looked away, his eyes tearing up. "No. No it wasn't," he choked out.

I hit gold.

"Neither of you told anyone else who's broom it actually was…" Suddenly I stopped. Fred had told me that story one night as we laid in bed together, but there was one part he left off. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

George gave a watery chuckle. "Because I didn't want anyone to think that I was such a chicken I couldn't even hex my brother's teddy bear." He laughed, which soon dissolved into heart-wrenching sobs. I strolled over, attempting to put a hand on his shoulder. Which failed, by the way. Happens when you're translucent. I had to try though. Watching him was watching Fred, and I couldn't stand it when Fred cried.

"He misses you," I whispered softly. "All of you, but especially you George." George wiped his eyes—Fred's eyes—and looked at me, hopeless.

"I miss him too," he whispered. I nodded, dying to say something to ease his pain.

"I know you do, but…you have your family here," I whispered, gesturing toward Percy (didn't know how much that helped). "They love you, can help you more than anyone else—"

"Is Fred alone?"

The look of panic in George's eyes broke my heart. He didn't care about his own pain. His only focus was his twin. Twilight ain't got nothin' on a love that can connect across universes. My next words came effortlessly, even though I didn't know how much comfort it was.

"He's got me," I said softly. Oddly enough, George smiled a little at this. Guess it helped a little after all.

"Take good care of him for me, okay?" George whispered, his voice breaking slightly. "Tell him…tell him we all love him. Tell him I love him, and that…the chocolate frog bounced out the window."

Percy stared at him, a look that told me he had no clue what George was talking about. I nodded. I had no clue what the message meant, but sure as heck I was delivering it.

Before I could respond, a large hand seemed to pull me away, out of the Weasley house and into my nauseated body that I really did not want to be in.

"Hey sleepyhead," Fred whispered, stroking my hair, "Took you long enough to wake up. You've been out of it for the past three days. Hungry?"

I shrugged. The idea of food was not appetizing, especially knowing who cooked around this place. I snuggled tighter next to Fred. "I saw George."

Fred froze. I couldn't look at his reaction, since my head was buried in his chest. He probably looked pretty shocked, since that's how he sounded.

"What? How?"

"You think I know?" I groaned, snuggling in closer. Or tried to, at least. Now that I had brought up his twin, Fred was no longer interested in snuggling, which did not thrill me in the slightest.

"How is he?" he whispered, almost afraid to ask. I whipped his arm around me before I continued. Fred took the hint and held me close.

"Same as you," I said. Fred took a nanosecond to figure out what that meant. He tightened his grip, which was now beginning to hurt, and didn't help the nausea any.

"He's got his family," I reminded Fred tenderly. "He'll be okay." Fred bit his lip. He nuzzled the top of my head for a few minutes (whether to comfort him or me, I wasn't sure) before I continued.

"George (Fred winced at the name) wanted me to tell you that they love you…he loves you…and that the chocolate frog bounced out the window—"

Immediately Fred broke into hysterical laughter. "Did he now?" Fred chuckled, his laughter hardly residing, "That dirty little rascal—"

"What's it mean?" I asked, but Fred shook his head. He wrapped me warmly in his arms, kissing my forehead.

"Don't worry about it…ooh, you are warm," said Fred, checking my temperature with his palm. "I'm gonna have to ask Lupin about that, your fever was supposed to go down…"

I shrugged. At this point, I didn't really care. At this point, things were starting to look up. He laughed. I had never heard him laugh like that before, but I'm pretty sure it was the most phenomenal sound in my life. I squeezed him tighter. I didn't care if I was in a fever dream. I didn't want to let go.

**Author's Note: If anyone would lovingly tell me where my verb tenses switch, I would love you forever. Thank you for reviewing! Love you all! **


	10. Moosen!

"Lsoi. That's a weird number."

Remus leaned over and flipped the thermometer.

"Oh! 102.7. Dang, you still have a pretty high fever," Tonks said. I nodded, curling deeper into my pillow. Fred had gone to work for the night, so I was stuck with Tonks, Remus, and Moody as babysitters. Before he left, Fred had chatted with Remus about the journey I had to "the burrow". Remus had suggested that, although we knew the house retained magical qualities (being a gateway between universes and all), it may have other unknown powers.

"Miranda, has anything else happened in the house?" he asked gently, crouching next to the bed.

"Aw, Remus. Leave her alone. Don't interrogate her while she's sick," Tonks chided, flicking him on the shoulder. Remus sighed and shook his head.

"You're right. I'm sorry Mi—"

"It's fine," I mumbled, trying to be coherent. Like Tonks had said, my fever was high, so everything was blurry. Thinking and talking took a lot of effort. Not to mention I continuously felt queasy, so much that the smell of quiche won my stomach an Olympic gold medal. Still, I wanted to ask him about the hyena.

"Re-Remus?" I said. In a father-like tone, Remus shushed me, brushing my sweaty hair away from my forehead.

"Tonks is right. Get some sleep, Miranda."

I nodded and closed my eyes. I thought back to the way Fred's eyes shone after my little adventure. He missed his family, his friends, his brother so much. Nightmares didn't help any. They only made the pain stronger and the desperation for his family increase. _I wish, _I whispered, almost like a prayer, _I wish I could take his pain._

The house whistled words in my ear, and I whispered them back.

…

"_You actually are joking, Perce….I don't think I've heard you joke since you were—"_

_The air exploded. They had been grouped together, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, and Percy, the two Death Eaters at their feet, one Stunned, the other Transfigured; and in that fragment of a moment, when danger seemed temporarily at bay, the world was rent apart*. __A horrible crash echoed in my ears. The building was wrenched asunder all around me, brick and mortar whizzing past me, digging deep into my arms and legs. I heard my arm crack, but I didn't care. "PERCY!" I tried to shout, hoping my brother was alive. He had to be. I couldn't lose anyone. The thought that any of them could die was worse than any stone or brick pain. Everything hurt. If this was death, than kill me now. Please, please, kill me now—_

"Miss Miranda! Miss Miranda!"

I shot awake, sweating and shivering. Immediately I rolled over and vomited. Where was everyone? Was Percy okay? What about Harry, Hermione, and Ron? Did they survive the explosion? I struggled to sit up. I had to reach them. I had to know if they were okay.

"Miss Miranda! Lie down!"

Miranda? Who the h*** was—wait…that was me….

I stared around the room. It was dark, almost pitch-black. I was coming back together, but I was a wreck. I retched again, my stomach rolling both from nausea and fear. The room shifted, swirling. I felt worse than I ever had in my life. Everything felt like it was either on fire or beaten by sticks, and there was a pulsing pain in my arm. Not knowing what else to do, I began to cry.

…

POP!

"Master Fred! Master Fred!"

The blonde woman screamed, pushing Dobby off of her lap. Any other person would have jumped back in shock, but not Fred. He peered over the bar, swirling a glass of Jack Daniel's in his unbroken hand.

"Desperate for a drink, eh m—Dobby?" Fred said. He stared at the drink in his hand, then back at Dobby. "Well, I'm pretty sure you're not of legal body weight to drink any of this—"

"Master Fred! Miss Miranda needs yo—"

"Miranda!" the blonde screeched, "I thought you were single!"

"Never technically said that," Fred said, dismissing her with a wave of his hand, "Now, what did you say Dobby?"

"Miss Miranda is very ill! She was screaming in her sleep and—"

"What are we waiting here for then?" Fred asked, hopping over the bar. "Oi! Marv!"

A short, bearded fellow with glassy eyes peaked out from the kitchen. "Whazzup, my fellow stargazer?"

"Hey, I'm being abducted by a tiny, bulgy-eyed man. Says he wants to find the secrets of the universe. Don't think I'll be back for the rest of my shift. We cool?"

The man shot Fred a happy, glazed over smile and a thumbs up. "We cool, my brother."

Fred shot a peace sign toward Marv, then quickly followed Dobby out the door. "Thank goodness for Muggles and their drugs."

Was Miranda okay? Fred didn't think her fever was this bad. What kind of nightmares could she possibly be having? What would make her so ill? He needed to get to her. She had always been there for him, even in his darkest moments. Her willingness to fight for him, even in the midst of the unknown—that fierceness, that tenderness—was what made Fred fall in love with her. He couldn't lose the only good thing he had here. Almost frantic, Fred snatched Dobby's wrist soon as they snuck into an alley. In a world where it was impossible, they Disapparated.

…..

"Miranda? Miranda?" Fred whispered gently, kneeling next to me. I stared at him, almost crying out "George!", but then I realized who I was. My mind was staggering from the confusion my nightmare launched me into.

"F-F-Fred?" I whimpered.

"I'm right here," he said, tenderly kissing me on the forehead. "I'm right here. You're okay."

"Fred—the explosion—it was huge." I clung to him tighter as he eclipsed his body around me. Pulling me onto his lap, he stroked my hair as I cried into his chest. Rocking me back and forth, he whispered, "Randi, Randi, you're okay." Fred had called me that once before, saying he liked the way it felt on his tongue. I told him he wouldn't be feeling my tongue if he called me that again. This time, I didn't care. This time, I was just glad he was there.

"Now, tell me what's going on," he whispered. I stuttered my whole dream to him, his face paling the farther I continued.

"What's going on? What's wrong with me?" I asked, on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Fred shook his head and kissed my eyes.

"Nothing. Nothing you need to worry about," he said tenderly. "Just a bad dream. Go back to sleep."

He was lying. Something was wrong. Under normal circumstances, I would have interrogated him 'til he spilled the beans, but tonight…tonight all I wanted was sleep.

…

Why is she having my dreams? Fred wondered, stroking Miranda's hair. This shouldn't be something she'd have to worry about, living his nightmares over and over. He thoughtfully twirled one of her curls around his finger. Her details were too vivid for her to be making it up. Besides, the fear in her eyes…Fred shook his head. He never wanted to see that again. Fred sighed, wishing to go back to a world where problems were solved by exploding fireworks. Girls were like that, fireworks. One stupid thing could blow up the whole sky. Mind you, they were still very pretty…

Fred glanced down at Miranda and sighed. "What the heck am I going to do with you?" he sighed. Women. Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em. He chuckled. "Good night love," he whispered, kissing her on the lips. It was another hour before Fred fell asleep.

He woke up hours later to the sound of Miranda sobbing. She must have been at it for awhile, judging by how red her eyes were. Fred's heart skip a beat at the sight of it. What the h*** was going on? "Randi?" he whispered in shock. Wasn't this supposed to be the other way around? He glanced at the clock.

6:45.

Wait, did he actually sleep that long? Fred's eyes widened. Not a single nightmare had sneaked into his mind. For the first time in weeks, he had actually gotten a decent amount of sleep. His eyes shot to Miranda. Had she…no she didn't…there was no possible way…not in a world without magic….right?

Could she have taken his nightmares?

"You stupid girl," he said, in a voice mixed with gratitude and anguish. "You stupid, stupid girl. What did you think you were doing?" Miranda didn't respond to the rhetorical question. Instead, she cried harder, screaming Percy's name (which in a certain circumstance, Fred couldn't help but think, would be extremely awkward).

"Miranda, Miranda, don't cry. You're okay. You're okay. Miranda, he's okay, remember?" Fred said, trying not to cry from the insanity of it all. This was nuts, he thought, absolutely nuts. He should get a tattoo on his head, saying "Don't touch". That way, stupid, wonderful, crazy, fantastic women like this wouldn't put themselves through h*** for a stupid guy like him. He wasn't worth this pain. A tear fell down his cheek as he held her, trying to whisper comfort into her ear.

Suddenly the house whistled. Fred stopped, staring at nothing in particular. "That wouldn't work," he muttered, but then he stared down at Miranda's weeping, gagging, twitching form. Anything was worth a try. Fred bit his lip, sweeping Miranda into his arms.

"_Expecto Patronum_."

Nothing happened. Fred cursed. He really thought it was going to help too. Suddenly a whispy light shone through the doorway. A glass moose clomp-clomped in. Mind you, Fred thought, it wasn't a very huge moose. More like a baby, with its wobbly legs and head tilting side to side, trying to hold up its poor antlers. It stumbled over to Miranda. Something amazing is about to happen, Fred thought, something mind-blowing.

The moose licked her.

…Well, that was disappointing, Fred thought. Still, it did have a nice effect. Miranda, apparently soothed by the moose's tongue (he'd have to remember that next time they were making out) had drifted to a deep sleep. Fred smiled, tenderly pulling the covers around Miranda before he snuggled up next to her.

"Thanks mate."

The moose mooed.

***Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows 636. **


	11. Waking Up

"A moose?"

Fred nodded, pouring another cup of coffee. "That's right," he said calmly. "Creamer?"

"Vodka," I corrected. After last night, I could really use a shot of vodka with a hint of caffeine. The pain last night was almost unbearable. "How do you do it?" I asked. Fred gave me a curious look as he added a tablespoon of vodka to my coffee.

"Do what?" he asked, sliding the mug across the counter.

"Have the will to keep going on, even after…" I didn't finish. Fred took the hint though, and took a swig of vodka, pondering for a minute or two. Finally he responded.

"I have you," he stated simply. Ruffling my hair, Fred poured himself a mug of vodka with a shot of coffee. I stared at my swirling brown liquid, lost in thought. How was it possible that I could save him, when I couldn't even save myself? I mean, it wasn't even my memories, but facing them, I was a wreck. How could I save Fred from what was haunting him if it was destroying me? I gulped down the coffee, then made a grab for the vodka. Someone snatched the bottle out of my hand.

"No," Moody said sleepily, "Constant Vigilance." I groaned and slammed my mug down on the table. Fred snuck me some vodka from his mug.

"I'd take it back if I could," he whispered, and I know he didn't mean the vodka from Moody.

"No." Fred sighed, exasperated.

"Well, then. Make up your mind. Goodness woman," he grumbled, stealing a sip of Vodfee. I watched him out of the corner of my eye. His features shone brighter than I had ever seen them. Perhaps if I could do this for one, maybe two more weeks, it would be worth it. "Anyways," he continued, "I'm gonna go talk to Remus about what's going on." He kissed my cheek. "I'll keep you posted."

I nodded absentmindedly. Fred glanced me over, worried etched in every line in his face. Once again, he ruffled my hair. "Hey."

I looked up. "I love you," Fred mouthed. I mouthed it back. Smiling a little easier, he scrambled upstairs. I sat at the counter for a couple more minutes, until Snape came downstairs for breakfast. Knowing better than to be in the same room with him for too long, I trudged upstairs.

"After what you told me, Fred, I suppose that the house responds to Miranda's emotional states," Remus said from his bedroom. He was probably talking to Fred. I couldn't help it. I moved in closer to hear what he would say next. "When she was sick, she probably wanted to escape out of her body. When she wanted to help you, the house gave her a way to do so. When she was terrified—"

"The house gave her comfort," Fred finished. "So…how do I get my dreams back."

A pause. "Fred, I don't think you can."

"What do you mean, I can't!" Fred snapped. "I have to. She can't live like this!" I heard the shuffling of feet, as if someone was pacing. "And why is the house connected to Miranda anyways?"

"You know how the wand chooses the wizard?" Remus asked. There wasn't a response. "Well, perhaps it's like that. Miranda was the first person to live in the house after the spell took effect. Maybe the house connected to her." Dead silence. "Fred, I know you're upset—"

"Upset's a mild word, actually."

"But she chose to do this—"

"What choice!" Fred yelled. "You tell me, what choice did she have?" His voice grew louder, stronger, more angry. "Did she chose do fight in a wizarding war? No. Did she chose to put herself in the line of danger? No! Did she chose to take my pain? H*** she didn't!"

"She—"

"She knows nothing about magic, Laura! NOTHING!" I heard something slam into the wall. "How could she have know what she bloody well about to do when SHE KNOWS NOTHING ABOUT MAGIC! How could she have chosen to do such a stupid thing—"

"Fred, calm down—"

"I WILL NOT BE CALM!" he screamed. "THE ONLY PERSON THAT I LOVE IN THIS WHOLE ENTIRE BLASTED UNIVERSE IS KILLING HERSELF, AND THERE'S NOTHING I CAN BLOODY DO ABOUT IT!" I heard something break, crashing against the wall. No one spoke. I heard heavy breathing, as if someone had just run a marathon.

"Fred…I don't think she wants to give it back," Tonks whispered, her voice shaking slightly.

"I know," he breathed darkly. "But she can't take this, Tonks. She's young. She's never been in a battle, never fought in a war. All Miranda should worry about is if she makes it in Broadway or Hollywood. She shouldn't be burdened with my problems."

"She loves you, Fred. Protecting the one she loves is what she's supposed to do—"

"Well, turn her into a potato or something, I don't care. Just—there's no way?" Fred sounded desperate.

"I can't fix something magical without a wand, Fred. You know that," Remus said, but then Fred interrupted, a small and quiet voice, as if not wanting to be overheard.

"What if the source of her nightmares went away?" he asked, "What if—"

"Come on Fred," Laura snapped, frustrated, "She'd still love you. The way I see it, you'd either have to die or make her hate you—"

Tonks whispered "Laura" with such ferocity that I was sure the force almost knocked her over.

"Making her hate me wouldn't help either of us, only cause her more pain…and well, I've already died once before," Fred tried to make his tone more jovial, but I knew better. I sunk to the floor, infuriated that Fred would even consider such an option. I was doing this to keep him alive, goshdarnit, not so he could kill himself. "Who knows. Maybe there's a third dimension I could hop along into. Either way, I could die a little less painfully this ti—"

I burst into the room. "Frederick Gideon Weasley, quit being stupid right this second!" I commanded, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. My voice became harsh and soft. "I love you. I did this to myself—Shut up." I snapped, because Fred opened his mouth to speak. "I wanted to take your pain, and so help me, I will keep it with me for the rest of my life if I have to. And if you ever—" I whispered in a voice so deadly Fred took a step back. "ever try to do something so stupid as to kill yourself, I will follow you to heaven and personally kick you're a**. Am I clear."

Fred didn't say a word, only stared at me in an odd mix of shock and fear. I wasn't used to either emotion from him—at least, when looking at me. "Well," I snapped. Fred took another minute before he responded.

"George was right," he said slowly, "I just never thought a woman would be more intimidating then my mother." Fred groaned and clasped his hand around my cheeks. "If it makes you happy, then fine, I won't kill myself, but Miranda….you don't have to do this—"

"I know you numbskull. That's why I did it," I snapped. I was about to make another retort when Fred planted his lips onto mine. Scooping me up in his arms, he carried me out of the room (although I still heard Tonks squeal "Ohhhh, could we try that one, Remus?"). Whisking me across the hall and into my room, we laid on the bed and he began kissing me. Fred kissed me with such a passion I'm pretty sure it became a substitute for breathing. I gripped him tight and matched him kiss for kiss.

"Don't leave me," I gasped, in one of the very few moments our lips parted, "Solemnly…solemnly swear."

"I solemnly swear," Fred whispered, running a hand through my hair. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."


	12. Remind Me

The next six months were probably the best and worst of my life. Never has falling asleep been so terrifying, but never has waking up felt so good. Every night, I was forced into a living nightmare that I had chosen. Some nights were better than others. If I was lucky, I could get through the night without a single dream. Others, I wouldn't get any sleep at all. Remus said the dreams had to do with Fred's grief process, so the nights he was miserable, I was miserable. The nights he was happy, I was happy. Of course, neither of us told a word of this to the others (except Tonks). Fred wouldn't be able to come to terms with his pain naturally then. He'd always feel guilty.

The mornings, though…the mornings were fantastic. Every morning I'd wake up to someone kissing my ears, tenderly whispering my name. The kisses would then make a beeline for my lips, and then we'd just lay there, our lips intertwined and our bodies unable to part. I was super glad I worked evenings. At the house, we were pretty much joined at the hip. Although, considering we shared each other's pain (literally) we were already closer than most people. It was one of those crazy, emotional-rollercoaster romances that you can only find in movies, like Stella and Stanley, Romeo and Juliet, or Scarlett and Rhett. It was a love so deep and crazy that I almost didn't believe I was in it. Slowly, Fred was getting better. He laughed more, taught the boys how to perform excellent practical jokes (and even performed a few on Moody and Snape), and became a hit at the local bar.

The best day out of all of them was a Friday in October. I was waking up from one of the worst nights I've had. The day before that Fred was miserable, and we got into the biggest fight we'd had yet. Words were slung around like huge rocks, insulting each other back and forth until I broke down into tears. That night, I locked the door in my room and muffled it with pillows. I was determined to make it alone.

The next morning, I woke up with my head throbbing, my eyes red, and my throat sore and dry. Mostly everyone was at work or school, so I shuffled downstairs and expected to be left alone. As I trudged downstairs, an almost pleasant smell wafted through the room. I walked in to a slightly charred Fred holding a fire extinguisher next to the oven.

"What the heck are you doing?" I mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

"Cooking," Fred said nonchalantly. I snorted.

"Cooking, huh? Looks like a disaster area to me," Remembering the fight from the night before, sarcasm riddled my voice as I asked, "And what, exactly, are you trying to cook?"

"Quiche."

"Well, you're doing it wrong," I said, pulling eggs out from the fridge. "Here, let's start over." Cracking a couple of eggs, I started whipping up a quiche. Fred wrapped his arms around me from behind and tucked his head into my shoulder.

"Have I ever told you that you are the most beautiful woman in the world?"

"Before or after you said my face looked like griffin turds?" I asked sharply. "Start frying up some bacon, would you?"

Fred complied. "Did I mention that you're feisty, funny, and very difficult to keep my hands off of?"

"Mmmmhhmmm. Green peppers?" I asked. Fred chopped up a couple and handed me half a cup. Soon as the cup was in my view, I felt his arms around my waist again, snuggling up against his warm body. He kissed me gently on the cheek.

"Did I mention I'm the worst person in the world, and that I'm sorry for making you cry?"

"You left that part off," I said, "Could've mentioned it." A small smirk had disrupted my angry look, though, and Fred chuckled at the sight of it.

"Look, I'm gonna make it up to you. Why don't you eat, go back to sleep, go to work (or play hookey, I don't really care which), then come to the bar at 10 tonight for the karaoke hour." He tickled me around the waist. Instead of laughing, I just glared at him. He 'glared' right on back. "Promise?" he asked.

I snorted. "Fine, but I'm still mad at you."

Fred shrugged. "Fair enough." Soon as the quiche was pulled out of the oven, I cut off my half and locked myself in my room. Oddly enough, I slept fairly well. I went to work (I quite enjoy my paycheck), and walked over to the bar at about 9:45, curious as to what Fred had up his sleeve.

I walked in the bar. I didn't see Fred behind the counter, but I saw Tonks, Lupin, and a few of the others. Laura saw me by the door, and prodded Tonks, who glanced over and giggled. Lupin had this soft little smirk on his face, and kissed Tonks on the head as she kept giggling like a schoolgirl. What the heck was going on?

"What is wrong with you people?" I asked. Tonks just laughed harder. Laura was staring at her drink, smiling like she was drunk. Lupin just shrugged at their quirky behavior. I looked around, still unable to see any sign of Fred. This was getting ridiculous.

Music started playing from the stage, and everyone fell silent. I glanced over toward the stage to see which drunken moron would make a fool out of themselves. Instead, I saw a young man, dressed in jeans and a white shirt, his face masked by a large brown cowboy hat. He was holding a microphone up to his face. Everyone was watching. Tonks giggled harder, and Remus quietly shushed her. Why did this kid look so familiar. Then, without a word, he began to sing:

_We didn't care if people stared_

My jaw dropped. I'd recognize that voice anywhere.

_We'd make out in a crowd somewhere_

Fred?

_Somebody'd tell us to get a room  
>It's hard to believe that was me and you<br>Now we keep saying that we're ok  
>But I don't want to settle for good not great<br>I miss the way that it felt back then I wanna feel that way again_

He lifted the hat away from his face, his eyes scanning the room for me. I felt someone poke my arm. Looking over, Tonks slipped me a mike under the counter. My eyes bulged. Oh crap. Oh crap. This was a duet.

_Been so long that you'd forget the way I used to kiss your neck_

I stood up, lifting the mike to my lips.

_[M] Remind me, remind me_

Fred's eyes locked onto mine. We could've lit a fire from the sparks that flew between us.

_[F] So on fire so in love. Way back when we couldn't get enough_

He walked to the edge of the stage. Slowly, he lifted a hand toward me, beckoning me. Join me, it whispered.

_[M] Remind me, remind me_

I was walking toward the stage. Fred, as always, was a magnetizing presence. I love him, I thought, something I had always known but never really realized. I love him like crazy.

_Remember the airport dropping me off  
>We were kissing goodbye and we couldn't stop<br>[F] I felt bad cause you missed your flight  
>[MF] But that meant we had one more night_

_[M] Do you remember how it used to be  
>we'd turn out the lights and we didn't just sleep<br>[F] Remind me, Baby Remind me  
>Baby remind me<br>[M] Oh so on fire, so in love  
>that look in your eyes that I miss so much<em>

I walked up to the stage, grasping his hand. Fred's face burst into a grin. He pulled me up onto the stage, neither of us able to let go of the other.

_[F] Remind me, baby remind me_

_[F] I wanna feel that way  
>[M] Yeah I wanna hold you close<br>[F/M] Oh If you still love me  
>Don't just assume I know<em>

_[M] Do you remember the way it felt?  
>[F] You mean back when we couldn't control ourselves<br>[M] Remind me  
>[F] Yeah remind me<br>[M] All those things that you used to do  
>That made me fall in love with you<br>Remind me. Oh Baby Remind Me_

_[F] Yeah you'd wake up in my old t-shirt  
>All those mornings I was late for work<br>Remind me_

_[F/M] Oh baby remind me_

We kissed.

Everyone was clapping, wolf-whistling, whatever. All I knew was the man in front of me. All I knew was that I loved him more than anyone else on this planet. In this universe. Fred used his hat to hide our faces from the audience, and we kissed again. "I love you," he whispered. "No matter what happens, I will always love you. I solemnly swear, until our mischief is managed, that with you, I will always be up to no good."

It was the most beautiful night of my life.

Then disaster struck. Our private apocalypse wreaked havoc, and I almost lost everything—my sanity, my love, everything.

The Grim Reaper was a woman named J.K. Rowling.

**Author's Note: Once again. Thanks for reading. Please review, because I can't tell if anyone subscribes because I can't reach the email this is connected to, and therefore if anyone is reading. (Although, thank you Music-Maniac-at-17 for being my most consistant reviewer) "Remind Me" belongs to Brad Paisley (sigh) and Carrie Underwood. The M=Miranda and the F=Fred. I was going to do male/female, but then I got confused. Oh well.**


	13. Grim Reaper ACometh

It was March. I know it was March because Tonk's hair was slowly receding to a normal color (winter is in Missouri forced her to choose a more brilliant color. Made winter a little less drab, she said.) Miranda and I were doing as well as we could, wonderful, considering the circumstances. I couldn't bring myself to call her my other half, because that would always be George's position. That didn't mean I didn't love her. I loved her more than anyone else—in more ways than George (Cause I mean, come on, I'm not going to chase George around wanting to snog him), but everything still hurt. I still missed everyone, especially George. I would never have gotten over that.

Anyway, it was March. I had just taken a shower, and no one else was home. I was in the kitchen, wandering around in nothing but boxers (thrilled, ladies?), when all of a sudden there was a knock at the door. I went to answer it.

In front of me was a middle aged, blonde woman. "Morning ma'm," I greeted cheerfully. "Anything I can help you with?"

At first I thought she was shocked (I didn't see why she would be. I find a half naked man at the door completely normal.), but then I realized it was something else. More like awe. (Of course it was, because my abs looked beautiful that day.)

"You're just like I pictured you," she breathed. I looked down at myself, then up at her.

"Not a Latter-Day Saint, I take it?' (We've had them come up to our door. Asked if they knew Luna Lovegood. The reaction was very amusing.) The woman laughed.

"No, actually. My name is J.K. Rowling." The name struck a chord, sounded familiar, but I couldn't remember where.

Then it hit me.

"The book woman?" I gasped.

Rowling chuckled. "Well, that's a new description, but yes, I guess you could say that," she said. Suddenly she became serious, like mum getting after me and George for leaving a prank on the floor. "There's something I need to talk to you about. Is Miranda here?"

"Sadly, no she's—Oh, never mind. Here she comes."

Miranda strode casually up the pathway. "Lunch ready?" she asked, kissing me on the lips.

"Still needs a couple of minutes," I replied. Rowling's face was stretched out into a grin, drastically falling when I introduced her to Randi.

"Miranda, love. This is J.K. Rowling—"

"Wait, the book woman?" she asked, jaw dropping slightly. True, Randi wasn't a huge fan of the books, but it's not every day a famous person steps onto your porch (Funny, I didn't get this reaction when I stepped onto her porch. I thought everyone knew who _I_ was.) Miranda awkwardly shook Rowling's hand.

"Well, come on in. How can we help you?" she asked. Rowling settled down at the kitchen table.

"Well, actually, I'm here to help you. Warn you, more like it," she said, thanking Miranda for the coffee. "You'll need to sit down."

Miranda shot me a look, the kind that makes me want to grip her hand underneath the table and pray the pregnancy test was actually false. We sat down.

"Rowena Ravenclaw warned me about your connection with the house, said I should tell you—" she began, but Miranda interrupted.

"Wait, how did you know?—"

"Rowena was the one who came and told me my books were real, that I was just telling the history of another world. Of course, it took some very strong evidence—" Miranda and I glanced at each other. Perhaps Dobby? "Anyways. Miranda, you've come to possess a monstrous amount of magic—"

"Is that bad?" I asked, trying to hide my panic. Man can't lose his head in front of his woman. Thankfully, my voice came out calm and collected. Good. Of course, I wasn't one prone to panic, but…Miranda was the best thing I had. She was, quite literally, keeping me sane.

"Yes. Miranda," Rowling said gently, eyes meeting hers. "Your body wasn't built to hold magic. The unknown presence inside you will disrupt your mind. If we don't get it out soon…" Rowling bit her lip. "You'll go insane, my dear."

Miranda's eyes shot wide open, filled to the brim with fear and panic. Furiously she began to protest. "There's no way. There's no way in h*** I'm going crazy! This isn't happening!"

I was horrified. This was all my fault. I shouldn't have allowed Miranda to take my nightmares. I should have stopped her. Put an end to it. Now, thanks to me, she was in danger.

Randi was still freaking out at Rowling when I placed my hand on her shoulders. "Miranda. Miranda…OI! RANDI!" I snapped.

"Don't call me Randi!" she yelled right back. I smirked. Thank goodness she still had fire in her.

"Fine then, I won't call you Randi anymore, if you promise not to go anywhere." I interlaced my fingers with hers. Hotly she kissed my cheek.

"Never said I was sweetheart," Randi said, almost savagely. I couldn't help but laugh, staring into her eyes. Gosh, she looked so much like Ginny, that brazen look.

Now, let the battle begin.


	14. The Darkness Closes In

**Fred**

Some types of warfare are easier than others. Battling Death Eaters: easy. Becoming a personality for an illegal radio station: simple. Trying to make sure your girlfriend doesn't go crazy because she's trying to save you from yourself: difficult as h***. The night after Rowling came was the worst we'd experienced yet. Miranda had been sleeping well—so well, we thought the whole entire conversation with J.K. had been a dream—then she woke up. Around one in the morning, Randi started screaming. Nonstop. Nothing I said or did snapped her out of it. Randi just stared straight ahead, eyes pitch black, like her pupils swallowed everything. Three minutes into it, Lupin and Tonks had torn into the room.

"What the h*** is going on, Fred?" Tonks asked, bending next to me.

"I-I dunno," I gasped. "She's not responding to anything."

Everyone crowded in at that point. Some of the kids started crying. Moody tried screaming "CONSTANT VIGALANCE!" to snap her out of it, but nothing worked. We all watched for the next hour, until finally her voice, hoarse from an hour of constant screaming, died away.

"George?" she whispered, clinging to my shirt. "No. No George. Please, please don't leave me. Don'tletthemtakeme. Don'," her scratchy whimpers disintegrated into unintelligible mumbles. I held her, trying hard not to cry, especially with everyone watching. I never thought I'd hear another voice cry my twin's name with such pain. Especially not Miranda's. It was like she was channeling my pain, twisting it and making it her own. I could have prevented this, a little voice whispered. If I had been more firm in the beginning…but I had liked it, being able to sleep through the whole night. I didn't mind pushing my pain onto someone else, as long as I got what I wanted. Guilt overwhelmed me.

"I'm sorry Randi," I whispered, a tear tricking down my cheek. I hated myself for being so pathetic. What a spineless a***, I thought. Randi began crying again, sobbing George's name. "I love you," I croaked out, the only comforting thing I could think of. I kissed her on the cheek, rocking her back and forth, whispering her name into her hair over and over again. Everyone else retreated to sleep. I guess it felt awkward to watch. Randi blabbered continuously into my chest, not falling asleep until 5 o'clock.

She woke up at eight.

"Go back to sleep," I whispered softly as she stirred in my arms. I could feel her shaking her head against my chest. "Miranda, love," I chided gently, pulling her closer, "You need to sleep."

She shook her head. "I can't," Randi argued, trying to push me off. I clutched her tighter. There was no way in h*** she was leaving that bed. Three hours of sleep after a night like that was not going to cut it. Poor mum. Wonder if she ever felt like this with me and George?

"Miranda, you need to sleep," I said. Miranda growled.

"I can't sleep anymore, Fred," she snapped. "Every time I fall asleep it's just another nightmare." Those words stung. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to think through the fog. Miranda had snuck out of my arms, fighting into her work uniform.

"What if I took them back, Miranda?" I asked. "I can take them away, Miranda, please—" I was begging. D***, I was begging. I had never begged to anyone in my life, much less a girl. Well, I guess I had always begged mum to not punish me, that I would be good, but this was different. I was pleading to take the punishment. I wanted it. My mind, my body, was nothing to me now, if only I could save her. Save her from myself.

"I can't," Randi cried desperately, "I couldn't Fred, even if I wanted to. I don't know how." With that, she sank to her knees, bawling against the dresser drawers. Quickly I stumbled over to her, wrapping her in my arms. Please, please, I pleaded silently. Please, I'll do anything. Take anything you want, except her. Randi buried her head into my shoulders, sobbing uncontrollably. No one out there was listening.

"Hush," I whispered into her hair, "Hush, Miranda." I carried her to the bed, holding her until she was silent. Silent, but not asleep. "You know," I joked, "We could try to switch bodies. That might work. Although, I must admit, you'd look nowhere near as gorgeous. However, my attractiveness would spike immensely." A smile. Okay. A little better. "You know, I'd always wondered what it would be like to be a girl. I guess I'd fall over from the weight of your—"

"Frrrrrreeeeedddd," Randi groaned. I chuckled. "Try to sleep love," I said, kissing her on the cheek again. Randi shook her head, snuggling deeper into my chest.

"For me?"

Miranda groaned. "Only for you," she mumbled, which almost ripped my heart in half.

The nights continued to grow worse. Every night, I begged for someone to help me, but nothing whistled back. During the day, she became listless, either staring out the window or pacing around the room, mumbling. Randi became thin, fragile. I could watch her bones move underneath her skin sometimes. Nothing I said or did could wake her from this stupor. Lupin and I thought of every single way we could switch my memories, my pain, back into my body and out of hers. Every method we tried failed. Nothing would work. The house wouldn't even cooperate anymore. I was losing her.

The last night was the worst of all. At eight at night she locked herself in her room, refusing to let anyone in. Not that it mattered. She and I were the only ones in the house.

"Miranda?" I called, "Miranda, let me in."

"No," she whispered in a voice that froze my blood. The voice of someone walking toward death. She was planning to die tonight. It had become too much.

"Miranda," I stated firmly, "Open the door, or I swear I WILL break it down." Randi didn't say a word. "Suit yourself," I called in. I threw myself against the door, knowing that it wouldn't take much weight to knock it down. The door crashed to the ground, revealing a passed out Miranda. My eyes widened in fear. Please, please, don't let me lose her now.

"Miranda?" I gasped, dropping on my knees next to her. "Miranda? Oh please, Miranda. Please wake up." Her eyes fluttered open slowly, peering into mine.

"Fred?" she gasped, struggling to breathe. I smiled weakly, wrapping her up in my arms.

"Hello love," I whispered. Was this how George felt, gazing at my lifeless body? No. She wasn't dead—yet. I shook my head, trying to push away the ugly thoughts. "Stay with me, Randi."

She nodded obediently, sending me into a panic. Every time I called her Randi she had always snapped at me, saying that she didn't go by that name. That is, until now. Was she giving up? "Don't leave me love," I begged, kissing her on the lips. The tiniest smile played on her cheeks. Still trying to smile at a time like this. How could I not love a woman like that? I kissed her tenderly again, hoping love would keep her alive. But what good did it do me? No. I couldn't give up. Minutes passed, the only sound was Randi's gasping breathes and my lips clinging to hers. Finally she spoke.

"Keep smiling love," she whispered. With the last of her strength, she forced her lips upon mine. Her eyes fluttered shut as her head rolled limply in my arms.

"No," I screamed. "Nonono! NO!" Suddenly, I became enraged-at myself for letting her down, for putting her through this, and at whatever stupid force out there thought it would be okay to let her die.

"Take me!" I yelled, still kneeling over Randi's limp body. "You want someone! Take me! Let me die!" I could hear a faint whistling, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered without her. Tears streamed down my face as I brushed my fingers against hers. "I love her," I whispered, holding her in my arms. "Give me her magic. Give me what was once mine." Where the h*** were these words coming from? "Give me the force that is mine. Give her back her life." The whistling grew louder, and the room became pitch black. I held her body tighter. It was the only thing worth clinging to.

"Give her back her life. She already has mine."

**Author's note: Sorry I didn't say who the narrator was last chapter! My bad…**


	15. Let the Rain Wash Away I'm Coming Home

**Fred**

Rain pounded on my back. Not the nice, summer day, fluffy stuff, but cold, whip-like, storm rain. I laid next to Miranda in the garden, unsure of how the h*** we were there. I was half-asleep, clinging to Miranda's body as her rhythmic pulse—

Wait-pulse?

I shot up and felt her wrist. "Fred, you moron," I snapped, "Lying like a Malfoy in the mud." I picked her up, carrying her inside the house. A garden gnome nibbled at my foot and I kicked it with such force it flew 20 feet. I was so focused on making sure Randi was okay I really didn't pay attention to my surroundings. Which was good, in a way. Otherwise I would have dropped her right there.

Gently I laid Miranda on the couch, stripping off her soaking wet clothes (something I'd rather have done when she was awake). Wrapping her in a blanket to keep her warm, I scrambled upstairs to Ginny's room. They were about the same size. As I ripped the bathrobe off the hanger, a piercing scream rose up the stairs.

"ALRIGHT! WHICH ONE OF YOU LEFT A NAKED GIRL ON MY COUCH!" Mum hollered. I raced down the stairs, kissing Mum on the cheek.

"Sorry Mum," I said, "I'll try to not make it a habit—"

"You better not George! What about An-" Mum was about to rampage.

"Mum!" I sighed, exasperated. "Look" I pulled at both ears. "See? Two ears? Goodness, woman, and you call yourself our mother? I—"

I stopped dead, dropping Ginny's bathrobe to the floor. She was-I was-I slapped myself. Still there. Mum's eyes were as huge as saucers. This had to be a dream, didn't it? Tears streaming down her face, Mum squished my cheeks in her hands.

"No, no it can't be," she whispered. I smirked.

"I know, I'm too good to be true. That's what all the girls say mum," I said with a wink. Bursting into fresh tears, Mum hugged me, choking me almost.

"Mum…Mum don't cry," I mumbled, hugging her back. A light flashed in the stairway. Dad was stumbling sleepily down the stairs. A crowd of people followed behind him.

"Molly, what—"

He stopped dead. My face broke into a crooked smile.

"Couldn't get rid of me that easily, now could ya?"

The stairway exploded.

"HOLY S***!"

Ginny pushed past everyone and eclipsed me in a hug as tight as Mum's. Dad was staring, dumbfounded, like someone had jinxed him with a Body-Bind curse.

"This-this is impossible-"

"HOLY S***!"

"…Fred?"

My head shot up. I stared at myself, one ear short, as skinny and pale as I was. I was staring at me, hands trembling on the banister. Tears threatened to fall from my eyes as I pulled out of Ginny's grasp. I was home.

"Hello, George," I croaked out. "Miss me much?"

Suddenly George raced down the banister, pulling out his wand. My eyes widened as he thrust the stick into my face.

"WHAT THE H*** GEORGE!" I hollered.

"WHY DID YOU ASK ANGELINA TO THE YULE BALL!" he yelled back. I rolled my eyes.

"You big prat! I asked her out so you could have a go at her! You were too nervous to ask her, so I asked! At least that way no one else would make a move on her and you'd be around her all night!" I snapped. Shakily George lowered his wand.

"I'm sorry Fred. I-I just couldn't believe—"

"I know, I know." A tear trickled down my cheek." I'm too good looking to be alive. That's the senti—"

George crashed into me, sending me flying to the floor. Sobs racked his body, shaking him with their force. D***, I had missed him so much. Tears cascaded faster and faster down my face, until I was crying as hard as George. It was so, so good to be home.

"Don't leave me again."

"Swear I never will."

"Half of me had died."

"Same here, George, same here."

"Don't do that again."

"Never."

"HOLY S***!"

"RON! GET A GRIP!"

Everyone laughed. George shot me a watery grin. I shot the same one back, bursting into laughter. I couldn't help it. It was so wonderful to be home. George felt the same way, laughing as hard as I was. We laughed until we dehydrated ourselves from crying too much.

"So…who's the girl?" Mum asked, bending next to Miranda. My eyes shot open. Oh crap. I scrambled over to Miranda, George following close behind. Miranda's teeth were chattering, I gave George a look, holding up Ginny's robe. George squeezed his eyes shut. Perk of being a twin. Don't have to say a word and the other knows what to do.

"Her name's—"

"Miranda," George finished for me. Confusion swarmed me for about five seconds, then I remembered. The ghost. Miranda had appeared as a ghost here, when all of this craziness began. I smirked.

"Which reminds me. Who's gonna be the best man at the wedding?" Even with his eyes shut George was able to punch me on the arm.

"You of course. Wedding's not for another two months. Plenty of time to make the necessary adjustments, and even if there wasn't time you'd still be the best man." George said calmly as I wrapped Miranda in Ginny's robe. Everyone else also had the decency to look away. George opened his eyes soon as I tucked the blanket over Miranda and tenderly kissed her.

"So, when's your wedding?' George asked with a chuckle. I smiled, carding a hand through Miranda's hair. Mum had started a fire, then quickly ran to the kitchen. Knowing there was no way I could stop her, I let her carry on. Everyone else trampled into the kitchen, leaving George and I alone.

"She's your type, Freddie," George stated, "I can tell just by looking at her." I grinned.

"Can't wait for her to wake up and meet you," I said, stroking her hair. "Gosh George, I wished you hadn't lost your ear—"

"We could always—"

"Grow our hair out…Hmmm...tried that fourth year—"

"Yeah, didn't work out too well." George chuckled and squeezed my shoulder. "Maybe I should get a—"

"Fake ear? Hmmm….could it do tricks?"

"Like sneak under doorways? An Extendable Ear?"

"Oohhh! I like that! By the way, how has the shop been?"

"Pretty good. Ron's been helping me—"

"Oh s***. Has the place burned down yet?"

"Came close, a couple of times." George glanced over at me the same time I looked at him. I felt whole again. More than whole, with both George and Miranda by my side. I squeezed George's hand.

"I missed you," we both choked out, then laughed. I missed that so much, but now, I didn't have to anymore.

I was home.


	16. Second Life

**Miranda**

I woke up alone. Which was odd, because I was pretty sure I was dead. Are you alone when you go to heaven? I wasn't sure. One thing I was sure of was the fact that I wouldn't be wearing a moth-eaten bathrobe. Tearing the blanket off, I shivered. Geesh, I hated the hot/cold/hot/cold feeling, like there's never a perfect middle. My memory was still muddled of the night before, but I could remember swirling, grey bits of it. Like Fred's supple arms, his gentle brown eyes, his smirktastic lips—

Gall, I had to friggin' find him.

I wiggled my toes, trying to get the blood flowing. Darn piggies. They started this whole mess. Could I find Fred if I was dead? I still hadn't figured out whether or not this was heaven. Couldn't be the other place. Too nice for the other place.

"Up already?"

I spun around. "Fred!" I cried out. Yup, definitely not the other place. I wrapped my arms around him, kissing him full on the lips. Geez, they felt so good. Almost in panic, Fred pulled away from me, blushing beat red. What the—I began to sweat. Oh d***. Maybe this _was_ the other place.

"I'm not-You-I-" Fred stuttered, clamping a hand over his lips. Someone wrapped his arms around me from behind, and whispered flirtatiously into my ear.

"Wrong Fred, love."

I screamed and jumped about thirty feet. Fred was grinning at me from one side, but his cheeks flaming scarlet from another. The blushing Fred had an ear missing. But why was Fred…Something clicked in the back of my brain. I slapped my hand to my lips, my eyes wide.

"Oh…Oh my gosh…ohmygosh….Oh! Oh! Gross!"

George looked insulted.

"Personally, I thought my skills were quite better than his," he said. Fred laughed.

"It's okay, Randi!"

"DON'T CALL ME RANDI!"

"See, told you."

George laughed, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "Welcome to the family, Miranda," he said. Nervously I glanced over at Fred. A huge smile lit up his whole face, like he had just completed a huge practical joke or made out on the bed for hours. The last time I was here I was basically a ghost. It was supposed to be impossible. How did we get here? What was he not telling me?

"Fred…what's going on?" I asked.

"Well," he began," Rowena had dropped by earlier. She explained that, well, because we loved each other so much—don't give me that look! I know it's horribly sappy!—I was able to save you, take the magic, and bring you to the Burrow—" He continued hastily, noticing my face turned several shades of white. "I-I figured, you know…Miranda, you'd have died, and—"

"I know, I know," I snapped, "that doesn't mean I'm not upset." George blushed for Fred, his eyes darting from his brother to me.

"Why should you be upset? He saved your life—"

"Because I took her away from her family, George," Fred mumbled, staring out the window. "I separated her from everyone she loved…" I stared at Fred. He felt guilt, pain, at placing his old burden onto me. The one he almost killed himself over.

"Fred," I stated simply, "I would have died anyways. You saved me. I can start over. Sure, it's gonna suck for awhile, but…I'll still have you…" I trailed off, staring up into his eyes, which were shiny and loving. Fred smirked, kissing me on the lips.

"You are beautiful," he whispered. "Come on, why don't you meet the rest of the family."

So I did. They were (are) wonderful. Mrs. Weasley made a delicious quiche (Fred told her, the little rat) to welcome me to the Burrow. Mr. Weasley reminded me a bit of my own father—gentle, but very quirky. George and Ginny were the easiest to adore; George was like another Fred, and Ginny was bold, for lack of a better word. I loved Bill and Fleur—they were adorable. Ron and Percy, however, annoyed the heck out of me, but, well, they were related to Fred, so they weren't too bad. After lunch, I met my best friend: Angelina Johnson, which was awesome, since she was George's fiancé and all. I was pretty sure it wouldn't have turned out well if I hated my boyfriend's twin brother's love. However, it turned out better than any of us ever thought it would. We almost became as inseparable as Fred and George (spectacular, considering the amount of time we had to spend around each other).

Time passed. Trying not to sound corny, but it was one of the best years in my life. Sleep was wonderful, although no one understood why we were so giddy about going to be at 10 every night. A year without it makes you appreciate the little things. With no more nightmares, and a full 12 hours of sleep under his belt, Fred became the man I knew he was. (Shut up, I know it's cheesy.) I couldn't say the old him, since I never knew that Fred, but he was just so…alive. I really can't think of a better word for it. Exceeded my wildest expectations. It was like having twice as much him, if that makes sense. Always laughing, always creating, always pranking. Yup, that was my Fred. We had a love that, quite literally, could jump universes.

Magic still freaked me out. I can see why the wizards never got used to technology. Fred could perform magic now. I never realized how brilliant he was until we stepped into the joke shop. Everything-EVERYTHING-in there was made by him and George. They were also the richest entrepreneurs in Diagon Alley, which was…well…not going to deny it was a perk.

All in all, if I was going to have a second chance at life, I couldn't ask for anything better.

RAWRRAWRRAWRRAWR


	17. Mischief Managed

The best moments of their lives always clipped on the heels of the worst.

"WHAT THE H*** FRED!" Miranda screamed, throwing the tape at his head. Fred ducked as the tape smashed into the Pygmy Puff cage behind him. George and Angelina stared. They had never seen Miranda so angry. Fred gaped at her in disbelief, jaw halfway to the floor.

"What? You would never have sent it in—" he said, fetching the tape from the terrified bundle of Pygmy Puffs. "I figured one of us had the guts to—"

"YOU HAD NO RIGHT! YOU HAD ABSOLUTELY NO RIGHT TO DO THAT!" Tears streamed down Miranda's face as she slammed an envelope onto the counter.

"Do what?" George asked, tentatively walking over toward Miranda. Sure, she and Fred had gotten into arguments before. What couple didn't? But this. This was fury he didn't think Miranda was capable of. Cautiously he placed a hand on Miranda's shoulder. Her eyes were bright and incensed.

"He sent-He-you-" she seethed, unable to speak through clenched teeth. Fred rolled his eyes. He fiddled with the tape between his fingers, watching it gleam like a prideful magpie after the latest find.

"I sent a tape in of her singing to a couple of muggle producers looking for a singer." He shrugged casually, "Something called Broadway. Same tape has a couple of clips from her performance in that muggle theatre last month. Figured I'd give them their next brilliant—"

"THEY REJECTED ME!"

The shop went silent. Thankfully they had closed for the day, but people were still peeping through the window at the commotion. George bit the inside of his cheek. Even he knew that that meant, regardless of his lack of muggle knowledge. Fred appeared puzzled.

"Come on, love," he said, "How do you—"

"IT'S RIGHT HERE! IN THIS D*** ENVELOPE!" she shrieked, chucking it at Fred, who deftly caught it. He watched her run up the stairs.

"…wasn't your best move Freddie," George said as his twin scanned the letter.

"No. No it wasn't," he mumbled. He was so confident that they would have loved her. He loved her, and he was as good of a judge of talent as any of those stupid muggles. George sighed and chuckled. Poor Fred. Yeah, Miranda was good, but she wasn't ready for the big time. Anyone not in love with her could realize that. "Geez. I really pulled a number on her self-esteem, huh Georgie?" George nodded. Fred bit his lip. He had never seen Miranda like that before, even during the dark period.

"Could you go talk to her George?" he asked desperately, "She's probably plotting my death as we speak."

"Yeah. Too bad you found a spunky one. Could probably hit you through a Jelly Legs hex," George said. Fred chuckled.

"Can't you picture it? Wobbling over to me, fist back—"

"And WHAM! Ten points to Gryffindor!" George laughed, but Fred nervously folded the corner of the envelope. In a brotherly fashion George punched Fred's shoulder.

"Relax. I'll go talk to her," he said, climbing up the stairs. It was hilarious, watching Fred twitch over a girl. He had never done that around Katie or Angela. Of course, he never really loved them either. George opened Fred's door, revealing a raging Miranda pacing like a trapped hippogriff.

"Miranda," he said gently, mimicking her circular movement. "Miranda, can you slow down? You're like Mum trying to plan my wedding." Miranda decreased her raging to 45 mph. "There. A little better. Miranda, Fred didn't mean to hurt you—"

"Well, why did he have to send the tape?" she growled. He had no right. She hadn't been ready. She wasn't that good, and of all the places he sent it to, he sent it to BROADWAY!

"Because he's dumb. Trust me, I've been his twin for 20 years, I should know," George replied, "Because he's never been this batty over a girl." He caught Miranda's hand, almost causing her to fall. "Look. Sit down. You're making me dizzy, and I already have balance problems." Grumbling, Miranda obliged. "Miranda, he's a git, but he's a git that loves you."

"Well, I hate him," she said, pouting and folding her arms. George suppressed a laugh, she was reminding him so much of a two year old Ginny. Women. Glad to know they never changed.

"You can't hate him."

"Why's that?"

"Because you love him," George replied with a duh in his voice. Rolling his eyes, he wrapped an arm around Miranda. Thank goodness he loved his soon to be sister-in-law, otherwise he would have magicked her into a flobberworm. "Now, I understand that since I'm not available, Fred's the next best thing." Miranda giggled. "But would you really want life without Fred?"

Miranda sighed. Life without Fred would be dull and dreary, like being Snape. Also, it was nice to know someone had complete confidence in her abilities, albeit a little misguided. Dumb Fred, always so self-assured with his decisions. Still, it wasn't his fault she got rejected. Maybe that's what hurt more.

"Look, Miranda," George said, reading her mind, "You're still good. You just need more time, more practice. If George and I started the joke shop in our fifth year, we'd have a bloody plague on our hands." He squeezed her shoulder, a brother to a sister. "These things take time." Miranda sighed.

"I know. I just…I just wish—"

"—that you weren't the most beautiful woman in the world?" Fred asked, sauntering into the room. "I know, it's a terrible burden to carry." Miranda shot him a watery smile.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. Fred shrugged, pulling her close to him. George wandered to the doorway where Angelina was. He nuzzled her while they watched the young couple. Was he going to do it?

"It's alright love," Fred whispered, squeezing her hands. If he kept opening his mouth anymore Fred was going to barf up a butterfly. Why was one little question so friggin' difficult? "Miranda…" he gulped.

Miranda had never seen Fred so nervous. Nervous. Was her boyfriend's name even allowed in the same sentence with that word? Was that legal? "Fred, spit it out," she said, rubbing his hands with her thumbs.

"I love you."

"Well duh—"

"No. I love you Miranda Geraldine Taylor. I love your fire, your passion, your voice, your laugh. Everything about you, down to the little piggies on your feet," he choked out. He had never felt like this before. This certainty, this blazing fire in his chest. Fred opened his mouth, but for once, words were failing him. He kissed her fingers. Slowly, gently, starting from her right pinky, ending on the ring finger on her left hand; Fred kissed each and every one of them. When he reached her ring finger, Fred peered up at Miranda. Her eyes were wide, jaw brushing the floor. His hand slipped into his back pocket, fingers trembling as he slipped something shiny onto her fingers.

"Miranda Geraldine Taylor, will you marry me?"

LALALALALALALALALALALALALA

Of course, I said yes. Like I could say no to the only man who makes me shiver like he does. We were married on the same day as George and Angelina, although a year later. It's nice to know when they forget our anniversary Angelina and I can gang up on them. At the wedding ceremony, we had begged Aberforth to add a few extra lines to the vows.

"Do you, Miranda Taylor, take this man, Fred Weasley, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, until your mischief is managed?"

I was trying so hard not to laugh. Fred was trying so hard not to cry.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

George was grinning from ear to ear, as well as Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger. Looks like some people caught on.

"Do you, Fred Weasley, take this woman, Miranda Taylor, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, until your mischief is managed?"

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

Aberforth was silent. Minutes passed. Everyone began to grow uncomfortable. Fred and I glanced at each other. Why the heck did he stop?

Finally Aberforth huffed. "Kiss her, you moron!" he snapped. "Figured that would be obvious."

Everyone laughed, except for me and Fred. Swooping me up in his arms, he kissed me with such a ferocity I could've sworn he was drunk again. All the boys whooped. All the girls squealed. The world was our plaything. Our lives were ahead of us.

The real mischief was about to begin.

**MISCHIEF MANAGED**


End file.
